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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years ago

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Not One of Many - Chapter Four.

Oh, what is this? A surprise update? YES! Thanks to everyone for your feedback, I’m looking forward to your thoughts on this as ever :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,665

Warnings - 18+ for later chapters. Minors DNI!

“Well, I’m glad you’ve come to me for once! Get in!” Opening the door of her home, Magda kissed Beth’s cheek as she entered, her four dogs, Mickey, Rocky, Hank and Claus all charging for her, excited woofing filling the air as their visitor crouched to greet them all in turn.

“Boys, come on!” Dennis called from the kitchen, whistling. “Alright, love. How’s tricks?” She was given another kiss and handed a glass of red as she entered the kitchen, the smells of Dennis’s famous chicken madras filling her nostrils, her stomach rumbling.

“Pretty good, thanks. I’ll be even better when I get some nosh down my neck, I’m bloody starving! She revealed, hanging her bag off one of the chairs at the table. “And you?”

“Can’t complain, B. Finally sold that bloody Lotus this morning!” Dennis’s business was in the high-end classic car market, owning a lucrative garage-come-dealership across the city, the troublesome Lotus Elise spending much too long in his showroom for his liking.

“Ahhh, the yellow peril is no more!” her joke made him snicker, turning back to his pot as she sat down, Magda opening the back door and standing outside in the small garden, lighting herself a cigarette.

“Now then, you looking forward to it, babe? Joining the Solomon’s harem?”

“Fuck off.” Her snipe had Magda in fits, her husky laugh filling the air. “First Kinga and now you with the harem comments!” she continued, referencing their mutual friend and fellow journalist, Kinga Clarke.

“He really told you in as many words he wanted to shag you, right off the bat?” Dennis inquired, pushing his glasses back up his nose as the steam from the rice caused a slight spectacle slide.

“He did. Alfie is not in the habit of mincing his words, it seems, but he did realise his comments weren’t appropriate and apologised for them, so that earned points with me.”

“So, let me get this straight. The handsome, multi-millionaire with the big cock asks you if you want to shag him,” Magda began.

“Oi! Rein it in, love!” Dennis protested from the stove, his face a picture. “And how do you know how big his cock is?”

“His ex-girlfriend told me,” she replied quickly, turning back to Beth. “And you said no?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to, but I did say no. He’d have to work much harder to get into my knickers, but for the sake of professionalism, I don’t think I’d actually let him.”

“But you would though, professionalism aside, if the scenario was different. Wouldn’t you?”

She was thoughtful for a moment, trying not to laugh at the sight of Magda hanging onto her chuckles, her mouth twitching repeatedly as she bit back her grin. “If he worked hard enough for it, under a different set of circumstances, I might.”

Magda scoffed, taking a long drag on her cigarette. “That’s very coy for someone as brazen as you!”

“My work comes first.”

“Now I could make a hell of a pun here, but I shan’t. Just know I’m thinking it, though.”

Beth rolled her eyes, sipping her wine through a smile. “That’s no bloody surprise, mate.” All talk of her impending stay in Chelsea was put aside, the three getting on with their Saturday night of extremely hot Indian food and chatter around the dinner table, Beth happily sharing that her rejected article had been picked up by an online publication, the editor loving her approach to the subject. It wasn’t as well paid as she would have received had she been featured in London Life and Style, but it was a pay out and a little promotion, nonetheless.

After they’d eaten, Dennis retired to the lounge, Magda ushering her bestie upstairs to where she’d laid out several outfits. Alfie had mentioned she’d need to bring clothes for going out a couple of times, but hadn’t specified on the location. She thought likely bar or restaurant as he’d professed a hatred of nightclubs (‘too fuckin’ loud, innit?’ he’d spoken of them in passing during his interview) so that narrowed things down.

“Now, this is fucking divine, but I’m not sure it’ll fit unless I put you in a push up bra for boob room,” Magda began, gesturing to her full C cup breasts and then back at the stunning, black dress. It was faille style, with a silver zip straight down the front, Beth falling in love with it in an instant. She always did with McQueen. “Here, get this on.” Handing her a satin Wonderbra, Magda took the dress from the hanger while Beth undressed, putting the bra on, Magda unfastening the zip and pulling it over her arms. “Breathe in!”

“Bloody hell, that is a bit tight!” she exclaimed as the zip was fastened, Magda snorting at how insane her cleavage looked.

“Look at the tits on that!” she cried, blowing a raspberry onto them, Beth in hysterics. “You can leave the zip undone a fraction, though, for comfort. Give him something nice to look at and all.”

“Mags,” she warned, her friend snickering with mirth.

“You know I’m gonna wind you right up about this throughout the duration! Right, the Westwood next. “I had lunch with Viv a couple of days ago. She sends her regards.”

Beth had interviewed Vivienne the previous winter, her article being featured in Vogue, which was a huge achievement for her. She’d found the powerhouse British designer to be utterly fascinating and full of warm charm, Beth leaving an impression on her too, it would seem, for her to send her regards via their mutual friend all this time later.

Pulling on the iron blue, satin mini dress, Beth was in love all over again, thanking her stars for Magda and her fashion connection. With that one being another yes, another six were tried on, two vetoed by the wardrobe mistress, leaving her with six to borrow, so she had choices. On the day itself, Beth firstly met with her fellow journalist friends, Kinga and Oliver for breakfast, the three catching up with each other sufficiently before heading home to pack her things.

“Now, what the hell do I wear?” In the end, she remained in the casual clothes she had on already, her skinny jeans and a t shirt, teamed with flip flops and her beloved Chanel cross body bag. Retail, five thousand. Second hand from HEWI, one and a half. It had still made her eyes water, spending so much on one item.

She was on her way to a world where money was no object, though, her mouth falling open when the taxi pulled up outside Alfie’s home. “Fucking hell.” she whispered, getting out, the Uber driver assisting with her case and dress bags, the front door opening to reveal Amira, swathed in Louis Vuitton pyjamas and a pair of very fluffy fur slides, coming down to the gate.

“Morning! Alfie’s on a business call, but let me help you,” she spoke kindly, seeming much more hospitable than Beth was first expecting. “Hmm, are you wearing that t shirt on purpose?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, puzzled.

“Queens of the Stone Age are one of Alfie’s favourite bands,” Amira spoke, folding the dress bags carefully over her arm as they walked to the front door. Ahh. She’d obviously assumed Beth had worn it purely to score points with him.

“I had no idea. When we spoke of music, he mainly detailed his love of classical, but did mention he was partial to an eclectic array of offerings.”

Amira snorted, widening her eyes. “You can say that again. His CD collection is literal insanity, even more so that he still insists on CD’s!” Entering the property, Beth felt her mouth drop open a little again, the entrance hall leading to a huge reception room, Alfie’s office to the left, the man himself turning in his chair to wave fleetingly through the clear glass frontage as he sat deep in conversation on the phone. She was led towards a huge kitchen and breakfast room, Beth noting that the former church carried some of the original features still, a wonderful mix of historic and contemporary in how it had been designed.

Once within the grand kitchen, she put her case over by the breakfast nook (which was probably too large to be referred to as a nook in actuality) Amira placing her dresses carefully over the table before moving over to the large coffee machine. “We’ve got everything, what would you like?”

“Cappuccino, please.”

“Sugar?”

“No, thanks. I’m sweet enough.”

Amira hummed with laughter, retrieving two cups from the cupboard. “My boyfriend uses that line quite a lot.”

“So, how did you and Alfie first meet?” Beth inquired, Amira moving to fill the machine with water.

“I model, well I used to a lot more than I do now, and I was on a photoshoot at Chateaux Noir, one of his hotels,” she began, Beth discreetly clicking her voice notes to record. “He stopped by to watch the shoot and asked me out between shots. I went to dinner with him a week later, came back here and never really left.”

“Was he dating anyone else at the time?”

“He was, two girls, Angela and Brooke. Brooke only lasted about another six months after I’d arrived, replaced by Jodie shortly after. She didn’t last long, either.”

“What were your first thoughts on it, his dating of multiple women at once?”

Putting a pod into the machine, Amira pressed the required buttons, pulling her hair from the large, brown scrunchie she wore, re-tying her mountain of dark dresses. “I won’t lie, I did find it quite strange at first, perhaps thought of him as a bit chauvinistic, but he soon proved to be anything but. He absolutely adores women, so much so that he opened himself up to the idea of being romantic with more than one at a time. Believe me, we’re nothing but extremely happy, all dating him at once.”

Beth wasn’t about to question it, but it seemed Amira was quite sensitive over such a topic, probably borne of having her relationship scrutinised regularly, she thought, which was only natural, being that most people did not commonly encounter such a set up. Automatically acting defensively was understandable.

“His fondness for you all is palpable when he speaks of you,” Beth chimed, smiling and thanking her as Amira brought the coffees over, both standing at the large island.

“He’s such a bloody gentleman, but has enough of the bad boy in him to keep us all on our toes.” Speaking of the gentleman-come-bad boy, he entered the kitchen shortly after, dressed down in dark green combat style trousers and a black denim shirt with the sleeves rolled, up, revealing an impressive collection of tattoos, the buttoned-down shirt showing a couple upon his hairy chest as well, his feet bare. Immediately, he pointed at Beth.

“Best album?” he quizzed, of course noticing her t shirt.

“Oh, god. It’s either Songs for the Deaf or Lullabies to Paralyse,” she spoke, hating having to choose.

“Correct answer, absolute belters, they are. Finally, I have a woman in my house who listens to music of substantial quality. These three? Fuckin’ ‘ell! The row I have to suffer!”

“Oi, don’t be so bloody rude!” Amira protested lightly, blowing stream from her latte.

Alfie smirked, pointing his thumb at his girlfriend as he moved to stand by the fridge. “She likes all that rap rubbish. Crap, I call it. That fucking fella with the dreadlocks, whassis name?”

“Lil Wayne?”

“Yeah, that plonker,” Alfie confirmed, Beth looking between them as she sipped her cappuccino. It knocked the shit out of her preferred Starbucks.

“What’s wrong with Lil Wayne?”

“What’s fuckin’ right with him?” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “Looks like a scarecrow that’s been scribbled on and sounds less tuneful than a goat pissing in a biscuit tin.”

Beth nearly choked on her coffee, bursting out laughing, Amira looking on at her boyfriend darkly while their guest attempted to compose her hysterics, but failed. “I apologise, Amira. Your man is quite the comic, though.”

“Just don’t write that in your article. He doesn’t need any further encouraging!” Alfie stood there grinning, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “I’m going for a bath. See you later, Beth.” Passing her by, she then received a kiss from her boyfriend, Alfie laughing softly when she muttered something about him being a shit under her breath, shaking his head before looking back at Beth.

“I’ve got half an hour between phone meetings. You want the guided tour, treacle?”

“Yes, that’d be great. Your home is incredible, I have to say.”

“It ain’t bad. Tell you what, you finish your coffee and I’ll run your stuff up to your room. Be back in a sec.” He lifted her dresses over his arm, picking up her case and lifting it. “Blimey, you got house bricks in here, darlin’?”

“Just three.” He chuckled deeply at her joke, leaving her to it, Beth switching off her voice notes and draining her coffee, looking around the beautiful kitchen some more while she waited for him to arrive back.

“Right, so treat this place like it’s yours while you’re here, you ain’t gotta ask for nothing, just leave anything with Mimi’s name on in the fridge well alone. I nearly got hung for pinching her last Muller Rice one time,” he began after arriving back, Beth following him out, her insides glimmering pleasantly as she caught a whiff of his cologne. “Lounge number one, where we tend to congregate the most. Game room through there, please tell me you play pool so I actually have use of the thing when I ain’t got the lads round, since none of the girls play.”

“I bloody love pool.” Her revelation made him beam.

“Excellent. Right, down there are the stairs that’ll take you to the pool, gym and sauna, use them at your leisure, of course. Dining room is over that side,” he continued, taking the stairs. “Right, that’s Mimi’s room, main bathroom is there, a smaller, second lounge just over on the right and your room is down at the end.” There were a few open seating sections with tables dotted around the huge space, the massive windows letting in an impressive amount of light into the triple height atrium.

Looking inside the bathroom, she’d never seen a space more exquisite designated for bathing, the stained glass in amongst the leaded windows remaining, adding a nice splash of colour in the white and grey decorated space, a huge sink console in the centre just before the deep bathtub over at the end, a steady stream of water running in over expensive scented bubbles that Amira had obviously prepared. On the top floor, she was shown the master suite, a big space decorated mostly in white, but with two opposing charcoal walls, the bed a big, modern four poster of black iron.

“Afternoon, sweetheart,” he greeted Talia with as she stepped out of her bedroom, pausing to give her a kiss.

“Hello, my sexy,” she purred, stroking his chest. “So, this is the journalist, I take it?”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Beth” she spoke, offering her hand. Talia shook it coolly, eyeing her in a way that was much less friendly than Amira’s cheerful disposition. Her mouth twitched into a smile, but she could tell instantly that if Alfie hadn’t of been standing right there, she would have likely ignored her altogether.

“Yeah, you too. Is Mimi with the neddies?” she then asked her boyfriend, Alfie nodding.

“I think so, yeah. She left at about eight to go for a ride.” Beth had noticed a few pictures dotted around of Mimi riding a large, grey horse and a smaller palomino, jumping over frightfully high looking fences upon her steeds. Beth had ridden as a child and a teen, but stopped when the pressures of her career had demanded less time for herself. She certainly wasn’t near Mimi’s level, which seemed to be of the competitive standing, going by the photographs.

“Alright, well I’m going to head out, go shopping and meet up with a couple of mates.”

“Don’t be bloody late getting back here to get ready though, yeah? I’ve booked our table for seven.”

“Where are we going?”

“Hester’s.” At that, Talia squeaked, kissing him and heading off down the stairs. Hester’s was likely Hester Blumenthal’s restaurant, where Beth had never visited on account of the steep prices, but heard amazing reviews over. Their tour continued, Alfie showing her the cinema room complete with big, comfy sofa rather than individual seats, the second bathroom, media room and lastly, Amira’s room before they descended a floor, walking down to the room she’d be staying in.

“Here, one set of keys and one gate and alarm code. You’ve got fifteen seconds after the front door opens to enter the code before the sirens will start making a row, keypad is on your right as you come in. Feel free to come and go as you please, but if you could be available on the nights we go out as a group, that’d be good.” Handing her a set of keys and a slip of paper, he smiled, noticing something had caught her eye.

“Thank you. And I like that,” she said, pointing to where his shirt unfastened.

“What, my chest rug?” He couldn’t help himself, perpetual flirty tease that he was, winking at her as he pulled his shirt open a little more, laughing when she rolled her eyes. Internally, though, a certain part of her anatomy had just pulsed for seeing his well-built chest in a little finer detail. She didn’t notice it too much before when he was swathed in expensive suits, but in more casual clothes, it was clear he put a lot of dedication into his bulky physique.

“The star of David,” she confirmed, pointing to the pendant, set on a chain among a string of beads and a second, longer chain adorned with a machine gun bullet.

“Antique, that. It was my dad’s, and his fathers before him. He was a gangster, apparently, my granddad. Ran a rum distillery beneath the front of a bakery in Camden, if stories are to be believed.” She’d have to remember that little snippet of interesting information for later, when she began taking down more notes at her laptop, which she’d crammed within her case, save bringing too much luggage with her. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to the grind. Oh, the housekeeper comes every other day, there’s a basket in your room, leave your clothes in there and she’ll have ‘em back with you by the evening. She’ll be here tomorrow. See you later.”

He winked again, her stomach flipping pleasantly. She couldn’t help it, he definitely did something to her insides that made her quietly curse her professionalism. He’d rouse such many more times, as well, she guessed. But she would remain steadfast.

She was there as a journalist, no matter how much, as Alfie descended the stairs again, they both quietly wished she wasn’t.

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albaedhoe · 4 years ago

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endearments

pairing : albedo x gn!reader

summary : having known albedo since forever ago, of course you have silly endearments for him.

word count : 2.2k

what you call him:

(My) Prince

Is the first and the most used nickname you’ve given him! When he was given the title “Kreideprinz”, you had started to call him Prince to make fun of him for it. You swear you call him Prince more than his actual name- it bugged Albedo at first but he eventually warmed up to it

“Prince! Master says that we need to collect slime condensate!” You yell while running to Albedo, who was busy carefully adding droplets of a solution into a flask. Although, due to your sudden outburst, his concentration was ruined and he squeezed the pipette too harshly. The concoction turns from a light blue to a harsh red, the familiar smell of smoke filling the air around you and slight sparks in the flask, but Albedo was too fascinated by the reaction that he didn’t notice.

“Watch out!” Grabbing the glass from Albedo’s hand, you threw it as far away as you could. “What-” Albedo was still confused. Pulling him to your chest and swivelling so that your back faced the direction where you threw the bottle, an explosion erupted and the ground rumbles. Once deemed safe, you let him go.

“I’m sorry that I ruined your experiment but next time, please don’t hold onto the after product of my accident when it clearly gave out sparks and the smell of smoke, my Prince.” You could see Albedo pout the tiniest bit at your tone while he looks away, “Fine, and I thought I told you not to call me Prince.”

Eyes filled with mischief and a soft smile gracing your lips, you were lucky he wasn’t facing you. ‘He didn’t deny that he was mine...’ you thought.

When you and Albedo had been sent to Mond through recommendation by your master, - Albedo being assigned as Chief Alchemist and Captian of the Investigation Team; While you were his assistant and second in command - everyone had first thought that he was an actual Prince. I mean, he had the looks and this regal aura around him so it wouldn’t be surprising if he was one. After many misunderstandings and explanations, the people of Mondstat eventually grow accustomed of your nickname towards the genius.

“Psst, do you reckon they’re staring at us because we’re not from here?” Walking side by side with Albedo, you tried to ignore the curious stares you received from some of the citizens as you climbed the stairs leading to the knights of Favonius headquarters. Some stared openly, some didn’t give you a glance and minded their business.

Not looking up from his newly bought book, Albedo mutters something only you could hear. “Maybe it’s because you yelled ‘what do you want me to cook for dinner, my Prince?’ at the gates.” You think about it for a bit but couldn’t understand what your lover was implying. Albedo snorts slightly, despite you being the same level of knowledge as him when regarding alchemy, you were very oblivious. “Since there is no patriarchy in mondstat, they would be curious if a so called ‘Prince’ were to enter their city.”

A light went off in your head. “Oh! That makes sense, I guess.”

It didn’t matter how serious the situation is or who is around the two of you. It didn’t even matter if Albedo was there at all! You would still refer to him as the nickname and the knights of Favonius (mainly Kaeya) would tease him about it if you weren’t around. The first time you called Albedo ‘Prince’ infront of Kaeya wasn’t eventful but still had an impact on the said alchemist;

“I’ll be at the giant tree in Windrise if you need me, Prince!” You wave goodbye to your partner. “Prince, huh? How cute. Would you like me to call you ‘Prince’ too?” Kaeya teases Albedo as he watches you leave the meeting room. Sorting the numerous transfer documents in his hand, Albedo says nothing but releases a small sigh, “I’d prefer it if Y/n were the only one that does, Captain Kaeya.” Silence fills the room.

Slowly realising what he had just said, Albedo walks away from the knight and to his new lab. Closing the door behind him, he makes sure that no one else is around, sensing if there were any footsteps heading towards his study. Once the coast was clear, Albedo’s gloved fingers card through his hair. Though parts of his ears were hidden among the loose hairs that escaped his braids, it was obvious that the tips were just as rosy as his cheeks. “I told you not to call me that infront of others...”

Starlight

This nickname originated when you paid close attention to the star-like marking on his neck. Though it was slightly unusual, you thought of it as charming and it complimented his outfits very well. Not many people have said this to him before so he doesn’t know how to respond to you.

You would call Albedo ‘Starlight’ when he would be in the state of insecurity and/or doubt. Pulling him aside to another room or a secluded part of a room, you would whisper reassurances and hold his hands or cradle his face. Never will you call him Starlight infront of others, it’s your own secret nickname for him that you would rather people not know about. You call him Starlight to remind him that he is the brightest and most serene person you have met on this earth. To Albedo, it’s comforting and he thanks you for thinking this way of him.

“Starlight, hey, look at me,” you cooed. Albedo looked forward but not at you, softly placing the palms of your hands on his face, you gently forced him to look into your worried eyes. His own no longer held that mesmerising shine and were instead dull and fatigued. “I’m here now. I’m fine. I didn’t leave you.”

One month prior to this scene, you had travelled to parts of Liyue in order to collect ores and minerals for Albedo’s new experiment hypothesis, so being his assistant, you went for him. Promising him that it’ll only take a week, what you didn’t expect was to be ganged up on and ambushed by treasure hoarders, multiple times.

Thankfully, you’re a vision user, meaning that you could easily take down these bandits, but there’s only so much a person can use their powers. Exhausted, battered scathed in multiple places, you decided to rest in Liyue Harbour for a couple of more days. You haven’t even collected half the materials needed for Albedo! You couldn’t just go back to Mondstat almost empty handed. You injuries won’t heal immediately so that means collection time will be much slower than normal, not to mention you have to be cautious travelling back as well.

When finally arriving at your shared home, it was a literal dump. Papers were scattered across the floor and the dishes were piling up. You partner wasn’t home at the moment so you decide to make use of your time and clean the house. Hours pass by and the door creaks open, Albedo walks in. He notices that the house is much more clean than the state he last left it in, his guard is up. That is, until you walk out from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up with a wooden spoon at hand.

“Welcome back!” Albedo’s eyes must be tricking him again. He wouldn’t be surpised since he hasn’t had proper rest since your departure, only ever taking two or three hour naps on occasion. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the ‘hallucination’ of you would disappear, but you didn’t. Brows furrowed and plenty of blinking, Albedo concludes that you are, in fact, real.

He slowly makes his way over to you, trapping you in his hold. Burying his face between your neck and shoulder, Albedo relishes in your presence and scent. He wasn’t aware that he was trembling, all of his exhaustion and constant state of insecurities finally catching up to him, until you cupped his face, which leads to now.

You would also sometimes call him Starlight to express worry. To maintain his serenity, he needs to look after himself, of course . Times like these are usually when he doesn’t come out of his study for the whole day. This means he most likely hasn’t eaten or drank anything during this period. You would occasionally pop in with a meal and force him to take a break. Albedo gets slightly irritated at the interruption but he knows you mean well in the long run.

During these breaks he would ask about your day, have you been working on a new experiment of your own or have you found anything that may prove useful in the future, all of that. You happily answer all of his questions, asking some of your own too.

Knock, knock. “Come in.” Opening the door to Albedo’s laboratory you balance two plates, one in the palm of your left hand and the other resting on your forearm. “Sorry to interrupt, but you haven’t left your study all day, Starlight.” Albedo catches onto the use of the nickname, so, having no desire to start a fight between the two of you, he pushes aside unnecessary books off of his desk to make room.

Knowing that Albedo’s appetite was small, you made only a few slices of meat on his dish with a selection of vegetables. The other plate in your grasp had a stack of cookies, freshly made from the comfort of your own home. You hear Albedo mutter a small thanks and started to dig into the food you brought him. While he focused on eating, you focused on him.

The afternoon light that penetrated through the window and lit the room had beautifully graced Albedo with its rays. Golden hour seems to favour the young alchemist as it kisses his skin gently. You watched as his light, ashy, blonde hair frames his face, a few loose strands escaping the braid you put up for him this morning before work. Comfortable silence fills the room except for the scraping of utensils.

Albedo wasn’t sure if he should bring up the way you looked at him in times like these. Your irises were filled with so much affection and love, he could almost see his reflection of how brightly your eyes shone at him. Though, Albedo keeps quiet. Afraid that you may become shy and refuse to look at him. He rather enjoys being the centre of your attention.

bonus ::

what he calls you:

Häschen = bunny

Albedo will only ever call you this if he wants something, such as: to see you blush or simply because he’s in a teasing mood. I’d say the endearment formed because you look or act cute to him. The first time he’d call you Häschen would be a complete accident.

While Albedo was sorting and writing documents about his new found discovery, you were lazing around on the sofa, in your back with arms raised, reading a rather interesting book. To his dismay, Albedo’s ink pot, after hours of torture, was beginning to run out. Not looking up from his papers, Albedo didn’t want his concentration and motivation to deplete if he got up. “Could you get me another ink pot, Häschen?” Albedo asks you politely, unaware of what he just said.

A loud thud bounces off the walls and enters the alchemist’s ears. Glancing at you rather than the book on the floor, he sees crimson flare across your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Despite the slow throbbing coming from the bridge of your nose and forehead, you didn’t mind it all. Rather, the blood that rushed to your face masked it, making you only feel a radiating heat. “W-What did you call me?” Thinking back to what he said, Albedo soon matched the expression on your face.

Albedo takes advantage of the fact that the two of you were from a different part of Teyvat, where the language is different. He calls you Häschen infront of others on purpose to watch your reaction, while the others around you don’t understand what it means.

“Sorry to cut the conversation short but Häschen and I need to head out to Dragonspine while the sun is still up.” Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets as you whip your head to face Albedo in a double take, giving him a look. If you looked close enough, you could see the mischievous and knowing glint in Albedos eyes. Trying your best not to show your growing blush, you feign interest towards the floor.

“Häschen?” Jean, the acting grand master, asks out loud what everyone else in the room were thinking. Silently pleading to yourself that Albedo won’t say anything about it, sweat rolled down your temple. “Ah, it’s Y/n’s other name. I say it out of habit sometimes.” Albedo couldn’t hide the teasing tone in his voice from anybody at this point. Having enough, you grasp the fabric over Albedo’s elbow and began to drag him out of Jean’s office. “Alrighty, guess we better head off now. Bye, everyone.”

Making sure that nobody was in earshot, you scolded your lover, letting go of his coat and stopped walking to face him. “I thought I asked you to stop calling me that infron of everyone.” Albedo raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms, “will you stop calling me ‘Prince’?” Exaggerating a gasp, you clutched the area over your heart, faking hurt. “Now, why in The Seven would I do that?” Albedo chuckles at you and ruffles the top of your head. “Exactly,” he tuts.

a/n :: apologies if there was a mistranslation with Häschen, I used google translate-

I am also aware that Mondstat is based on Germany but lets ignore that as well-

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x reader #albedo x reader #albedo #can you tell how much I love this guy #like-#this is so much longer than my Zhongli one-

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sankyeom · 4 years ago

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let’s play pretend | l.jh

pairings: lee jaehyun x reader (she/her/hers pronouns, reader wears a dress at one point, which isn’t specific to women but i realised it might not suit your style so sorry about that) genre: fake dating au, friends to lovers, a lot of pining, y’all are both kinda of blind ngl summary: in which your sister’s wedding is right around the corner, and you don’t want to spend the day telling your relatives that your boyfriend cheated on you, so you ask hyunjae to accompany you word count: 6.6k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

When you found out that your boyfriend was cheating on you, you were happy to let him go and completely cut him out of your life. Of course it was a huge blow to your confidence that he had decided to cheat on you; relationships were supposed to make you feel comfortable and supported, not lied to and betrayed. However, you were lucky to have some pretty amazing friends that helped you through it all.

The only problem was that when your sister sent out her wedding invitations, you had told her that you were bringing your ex-boyfriend as a date. This might not sound too bad, but your family loved to pry into your personal life, and you weren’t sure you could handle an entire weekend of questions about why you and your ex were no longer together, along with the pitiful glances you knew they would send you.

You groaned. “I’m literally dreading my sister’s wedding. Isn’t that horrible? I’m the maid of honour, I’m supposed to be excited for her and super supportive. But all I can think about is how miserable my extended family is going to make me.”

Younghoon and Kevin had been listening to your ranting, the three of you cuddled up together on the couch of your apartment. “So bring a date,” Kevin stated the obvious, raising his shoulders and arms in a shrug. “Problem solved.”

“Except, not really,” you denied. “It could work, but I don’t have anyone who’s close enough to me that I wouldn’t have to fake the chemistry and strong bond of a long-term relationship. I don’t think it’d be convincing if I just took anyone and asked them to pretend we’re dating.”

“Then take Hyunjae,” Younghoon suggested, moving his head off of your shoulder to make eye contact with you.

“I guess we have been friends for a long time…” you allowed, thinking it over. You had met Hyunjae in college where you met most of your friends, but the two of you clicked really easily and got along incredibly well. Your humour played really well off of his and you, Hyunjae, and Eric often got up to mischief to the point where you gave Changmin and Sangyeon a headache. “Do you think he’d do it?”

“If he thinks it’ll help you, I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” Younghoon said, grabbing his phone from the coffee table before resting his head on your shoulder again. “Now can we finally agree on what to order for dinner? Waffles for dessert, no discussion.”

Hyunjae’s deep, loud laugh wasn’t what you expected to hear after explaining your predicament to him. After a moment of letting him chortle to himself, he seemed to realise that you weren’t laughing with him, causing his eyes to widen. “Wait, you’re serious?” he exclaimed, sitting up from where he was slouched on your couch and pulling the hood of his sweatshirt off his head.

“This is way too pathetic to joke about,” you retorted, slightly embarrassed at the whole ordeal.

“Let me get this straight,” Hyunjae folded his hands together on his knees. “You want me to go to your sister’s wedding with you and pretend to be your scumbag ex-boyfriend?” At the mention of your ex, an uncharacteristic scowl appeared on Hyunjae’s face.

“No, I want you to come with me to my sister’s wedding and pretend to be yourself, just that we’re dating,” you corrected. “You get to be yourself; name, personality, and all. We’ll just be fibbing about that fact that we’re dating.”

Hyunjae nodded at your words. “Is telling your family really not an option?” he wondered.

You sighed. “I want good memories of my sister’s wedding,” you admitted. “I don’t want the memory of her night to be filled with embarrassment and humiliation from my distant relatives who only have horrible things to say.”

Hyunjae grimaced, familiar with how often you ranted about your harsh your extended family could be. “If it really means that much to you, then I’ll do to,” Hyunjae told you slowly, as if he wasn’t quite sure of himself.

“Really?” you eyes lit up, the relief and excitement in your irises enough to fully convince Hyunjae that he wanted to help you.

“Of course,” Hyunjae smiled, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling adorable like they always did. “When are we going?”

“In three weeks,” you informed him. “Thank you, Hyunjae. I think we’ll actually have fun together! The trip is paid for and it’s a really sweet beach wedding.”

A beach wedding. Hyunjae couldn’t help but think about how romantic a beach wedding was. Getting married surrounded by nature, then spending the evening partying with your friends at the beach… Shaking himself out of his thoughts before he started picturing you in white, Hyunjae cleared his throat and nodded. “That does sound fun. I’ll be there.”

“You’re so screwed,” Eric cackled when Hyunjae told him and Jacob about your sister’s wedding. The three of them had gone for dinner after Hyunjae left your apartment, Hyunjae citing it as a way for him to clear his head and talk. Jacob nudged their youngest friend, although the smile on his face indicated that he somewhat agreed with Eric’s sentiment.

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjae asked.

Eric rested his elbows on the table. “You and Y/n are going on a romantic beach getaway together-“

“It’s her sister’s wedding, not a romantic beach getaway,” Hyunaje corrected.

“Whatever it is, you shoot hearts out of your eyes whenever you’re around her,” Eric reminded his older friend, causing Hyunjae to shut his mouth for a moment to actually listen. “You can barely keep it to yourself when she’s in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Do you really think you won’t be obvious about it when you see her in a beautiful dress, walking down the aisle?” Eric asked, an amused smile on his lips.

Hyunjae pondered his point. “I mean… It’s not like she’s the bride.”

“You’ve never been to a wedding with a partner before, have you?” Jacob realised. Hyunjae nodded. “Whether or not Y/n’s the bride doesn’t make a difference. Surrounded by the flowers and the ceremony… watching a couple confess their deepest feelings for one another and commit to each other for life…” Jacob trailed off, and Hyunjae could see what he was getting at.

“Oh,” he breathed out, speechless. Even after their food arrived and Jacob and Eric dug into their meals, Hyunjae was still staring blankly into space. It took Jacob nudging him gently, handing him his cutlery, and telling him to eat before Hyunjae snapped out of it. “I don’t want to slip up and confess to Y/n,” Hyunjae said after they had each eaten some of their meals.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen, even if you do confess?” Eric challenged.

“Well, if I confess, Y/n could reject me and I might ruin our friendship and make things really awkward until we drift apart and she’s out of my life all together,” Hyunjae said easily, as if this was on his mind frequently.

Eric paused his eating, “Damn, that does sound pretty bad. I have no idea what I’d do if I were you,” he admitted, looking incredulously at his older friend.

Hyunjae gave him a frustrated look, as if Eric’s comment hadn’t put Hyunjae at ease but made him even more worried.

“You don’t have to feel pressured to confess or not confess,” Jacob assured Hyunjae. “You guys can just have a fun weekend trip together as friends. It’s not a big deal. The ceremony is going to be very emotional and that might be tricky for you, but the rest of it should be a breeze. You guys have been good friends since college, I’m sure you can get through a friendly weekend together.”

Jacob’s words were far more comforting and assuring than Eric’s. Hyunjae took his words to heart and agreed, allowing the three of them to properly get to their dinner. A cloud of doubt still obscured Hyunjae’s thoughts, but he did his best to push them to the back of his mind. He had decided to help you, and he knew that he could get through it without messing anything up between the two of you.

Or, at least he hoped he could.

The Friday before your sister’s wedding, you swung by Hyunjae’s place to pick him up for your flight. You would be spending three nights at the beach, all paid for by your sister and her fiancé, returning back home on Monday after they married on Sunday afternoon. When you arrived at Hyunjae’s place, he was already waiting for you outside in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking comfortable for the plane ride. He smiled when he noticed you, even taking the time to excitedly wave his neck cushion in the air at the sight of your car.

“Mr Lee Jaehyun?” you asked, rolling down the window so he could hear you. “I’ve been sent to pick you up.”

“Sorry,” Hyunjae said with a small shrug, making his way to your car. “I’m actually waiting for my girlfriend. We’re going to a wedding together this weekend.”

You laughed at his way of getting into character, unlocking your doors to let him hop into the passenger seat of your car. He tossed his duffel bag into the back seat with yours. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to that,” you mused. “Calling you my boyfriend and being called your girlfriend.”

“I guess so,” Hyunjae grinned. “Unless you want to tell your family that you picked me up on the plane ride?”

You burst into more laughter at his words. “Sure,” you joked. “I can tell them that you’re married and have two kids but I just had to have you, so I seduced you by giving you my in-flight snacks in hopes that you’d be my date.”

“That doesn’t sound bad,” Hyunjae admitted. “I’ll take your snacks as payment.”

“No way,” you denied, driving towards the airport after Hyunjae had his seatbelt on. “You’re getting a beach weekend with your favourite person in the whole world as payment.”

Hyunjae sat up straight, clapping his hands together in excitement. “Jacob’s coming too?!” he exclaimed.

You gasped. “I’m so telling Eric that you said Jacob’s your favourite.”

“Like Juyeon isn’t his favourite anyway,” Hyunjae physically swatted your words away with a scoff. You grinned at this, knowing that Hyunjae and Eric were two peas in a pod.

The plane ride was fun enough; you and Hyunjae spent the first half hour of the flight playing games and trying not to irritate the passengers around you too much, until the both of you got tired and eventually fell asleep. Hyunjae had let you rest your head on his shoulder and the two of you shared a blanket that you had brought with you, knowing how much Hyunjae hated the plane blankets.

By the time the both of you woke up, you had taken a nice nap and already arrived in Jeju Island. You took the car that your sister had sent for you and made your way to the hotel where everyone was staying. Your flight had been in the afternoon, so by the time you arrived at the hotel, it had already gotten dark. Once your sister spotted you, she squealed in excitement and pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you!” she told you, genuinely meaning it. The two of you hadn’t lived in the same city ever since she finished college six years before you, and it was getting harder and harder to make time to see each other. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” you rolled your eyes, pulling away from her tight grip. “You’re getting married, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Your sister winked at you before giving Hyunjae her attention. “You must be the boyfriend,” she said, holding her hand out for Hyunjae to shake.

He took her hand, giving her his best smile as he introduced himself. Even though your sister was getting married and completely in love with her fiancé, you could see the way she was instantly smitten by Hyunjae’s sweet smile and voice. He simply had that effect on people.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m so glad you could make it, too! Y/n’s been avoiding all of my questions about you recently so I’ll just have to grill you myself,” your sister joked.

Hyunjae laughed nervously. Even though he wasn’t really your boyfriend, he still wanted your sister to like him. The two of you had always been close, and it was important to Hyunjae that he get your family’s approval.

“If you have time,” you corrected your sister. “It’s your wedding weekend, don’t count on having so much spare time to interrogate Hyunjae,” you added, giving Hyunjae a reassuring smile.

“I’ll make time,” you sister replied, giving you one last hug before rushing off to tend to something the wedding planner was asking her about.

You and Hyunjae decided to take her absence as a chance to check in at the front desk. The concierge gave you two keys for your room, and you followed the numbers on the doors until you could see your room. As you entered, you couldn’t help but think about how lovely the room was. It was open and bright, windows cracked just enough for the breeze from the ocean to waft throughout the space freely.

There was only one problem.

“One bed?” Hyunjae stammered, the large queen-sized bed being the first thing he spotted.

“Oh,” you hadn’t given it much thought when you came in, instead taking the time to step out onto the balcony and admire the night view of the ocean. “Well, I was with my ex for almost a year so… I guess my sister thought this would be okay,” you explained. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“Oh that’s fine,” Hyunjae smiled, placing his duffel bag on the floor under the desk. “I’ll sleep on the sofa,” he decided, taking a seat on said sofa.

It looked big enough for him to sleep on, but you didn’t think it was necessary. “Really, I don’t mind,” you repeated. “This bed is huge. And I know that you don’t have any weird sleep habits that I need to worry about.”

“I insist,” Hyunjae said, lying down on the sofa and stretching out to demonstrate. “See! I fit perfectly.”

You bit your bottom lip. You didn’t realise that the idea of sleeping in the same bed as you was something that Hyunjae was so against. The two of you had been friends for years, and you considered Hyunjae one of your closest friends amongst Younghoon and Kevin.

You supposed it meant that Hyunjae was uncomfortable with the idea of you interpreting his actions as romantic instead of platonic; which you understood. You didn’t realise it would hurt so much to realise that Hyunjae didn’t see you romantically at all.

To hide this, you gave Hyunjae a shrug and sat down on the bed. “I propose that we order room service, watch a few movies, and leave the meeting of the extended family until tomorrow,” you suggested. “Thoughts?”

Having already closed his eyes, Hyunjae hummed in agreement. “Sounds good,” he said sleepily. “I’ll take whatever burger they have.”

You nodded, taking out the room service menu and flipping through it.

One overly large meal and two movies later, Hyunjae had trudged off into the bathroom to get ready for bed once you were done. You took your phone out to check your social media and found that your sister had also spent the night in for the most part; according to her Snapchat story. She and her fiancé had a similar evening to your and Hyunjae, except they shared a romantic bath amongst other things in their suite.

You laughed suddenly. “Hey Jae,” you called out to Hyunjae. “Have you ever had the urge to see what Eric and Sunwoo look like dancing salsa? Because if the answer is yes, you have to see Changmin’s Snapchat story,” you added.

Hyunjae emerged from the bathroom in his pyjamas, taking a seat next to you on the bed as you showed him the footage. The two of you giggled together, fondly making fun of your friends as you fabricated funny texts to send to the youngest two. Soon, the two of you had comfortably burrowed yourselves under the covers in the bed, yawning.

“You really don’t have to sleep on the sofa,” you told Hyunjae once more, just in case he changed his mind.

Hyunjae smiled timidly, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he stood up. “I should get to sleep,” he said in lieu of an answer, making his way over to the sofa.

With a quiet sigh, you nodded and tucked yourself into bed alone, turning the lights off after sharing a good night.

You woke up with a start, having experienced a pretty weird dream you couldn’t recall anymore. Sitting up, you looked around to gage your surroundings and found Hyunjae shivering on the couch as he flinched and mumbled in his sleep.

Realising that he was having a bad dream, you quietly got out of bed and collected the blanket you brought from home to use on the plane from where it sat in your bag. Kneeling next to the sofa, you covered Hyunjae with the blanket over the thin sheet he had as a blanket to warm him up better. Then, you gently combed your fingers through his hair until he stopped shivering and his expression softened to a peaceful smile.

Fatigued, you trudged back to your bed and soon fell back asleep.

The next morning, Hyunjae woke up to the sound of the shower running. Sitting up, he realised that you weren’t in your bed and connected the dots in his tired state. Rubbing his eyes, he felt around the sofa for his phone an realised that a soft blanket was covering the sheets he was using last night. Realising that you had covered him after he had fallen asleep, a smile appeared on his lips.

The thought of you going out of your way to make him more comfortable caused butterflies to rise in his stomach. Hyunjae leaned back against the sofa, letting out something like a giggle as giddy emotions overwhelmed him. Your scent on the blanket was so comforting that he could have fallen back asleep again. Instead, he got up to make your bed along with his, and stepped out onto the balcony to look at the view.

“Morning,” you soon joined Hyunjae outside, your hair wet from your shower as you were dressed in your clothes for the day. Most of the day would be spent during the wedding rehearsal and other family activities, so you had put on a semi-formal little blue dress so you would be set for the evening as well.

“You look nice,” Hyunjae complimented in return, opening his arms for a hug. You chuckled, stepping into his arms and wrapping your arms around his waist. After being friends with Hyunjae for years, you knew that he was always in the mood for skinship in the morning when he was still waking up. “What’s the occasion?” he joked, perfectly well knowing the occasion was your sister’s wedding preparations.

“You’re hilarious,” you replied, pulling away and admiring the view during the day for the first time. “You should wash up. We have to be at brunch soon, and my family is going to be so much worse if we’re late.”

Hyunjae nodded, going to wash up. Knowing that he wouldn’t have the chance to change for the rehearsal dinner that evening, Hyunjae decided on a pair of jeans and a more formal shirt so that he didn’t stick out too much amongst your family.

For the majority of the day, you had helped your sister with her wedding rehearsal because you were the maid of honour. Hyunjae stuck around for a while to help, but you soon sent him off to have fun at the beach or do something else, feeling guilty that he was just sitting there helplessly. Once rehearsals were over and it was time for the rehearsal dinner, you and Hyunjae trailed off to the dining room, giggling as you kept trying to tickle each other.

“You guys are so cute,” your sister pouted when you entered. “Seriously. I can’t believe we’ve never met Hyunjae,” she added. “I mean, I’ve heard about you since Y/n went to college and yet this is the first time we’re introduced.”

“That’s my fault,” Hyunjae said. “I’m horribly shy.” Even after meeting once, your sister could tell this wasn’t true, earning a loud laugh out of her.

“Y/n,” one of your cousins greeted. You and Hyunjae had just taken your seats to eat at the large table your sister and her fiancé were to sit on the evening of their wedding. “Is this that boyfriend your mother’s been telling me about?” she asked. You greeted her, and the rest of your family, before confirming her question. “It’s so nice to meet you! After all this time, none of us have ever met you. Even the ones that live in Seoul…” she trailed off, eyeing Hyunjae with curiosity.

That’s because Y/n says you’re old-fashioned, rude, judgemental jerks, Hyunjae thought to himself, masking his thoughts with a smile and a vague introduction. “My job keeps me pretty busy,” he said vaguely.

“Of course,” your cousin nodded, her tone disbelieving. As dinner was served, you couldn’t help but laugh as Hyunjae confusedly used all the different sets of cutlery for all the wrong reasons. It didn’t matter to you at all, and the surprised looks from your family were priceless as well.

“Here,” you handed him the outermost fork. “You work your way in to your plate with each course,” you explained.

Hyunjae only smiled, grabbing onto your hand. “What would I do without you?”

“The two of you are just precious!” One of your favourite aunts exclaimed as she passed by. “How did the two of you meet?” she asked, smiling encouragingly.

“At college,” you told her simply, not having come up with a fake story beforehand. This was one of the reasons that you had invited Hyunjae; the two of you had a history and connection that you didn’t have to lie about. You only fibbed a little about the nature of your relationship.

Hyunjae laughed. “That’s a story you won’t want to miss,” he said, inviting your aunt to sit in the vacant seat next to him. “The first time I met Y/n was in the coffee shop on campus,” Hyunjae began. “I saw her leave a textbook in the cafe when she left. Later she came back for it and I told her that I had seen her and held onto it in case she came back.”

“How romantic,” a different aunt of yours cooed.

Hyunjae shook his head, an amused glint in his eyes as he remembered the story. “That’s what I thought,” he said, remembering how badly he wished for you to return so he had an excuse to talk to you. “I told her that the only way she could have her textbook back was if she agreed to go on a date with me,” Hyunjae continued.

You raised an eyebrow at this. You had always thought that when Hyunjae said he wanted to get coffee with you that day, it was a casual invitation. Now that you thought about it, you could have interpreted it as a date as well. You wondered what Hyunjae thought it was.

“She told me I could keep the book,” Hyunjae added, making your family complain around you. “She left and I held onto her book, hoping that she’d change her mind. A month later, I get a call from the University library saying that Y/n’s book was rented and that I owed them $100 for keeping it past the rented time.”

You laughed at this, remembering how you had purposely let Hyunjae keep the book to teach him a lesson about ultimatums. This caused all of your family to scold you. Still, they were completely hooked onto Hyunjae’s story.

“Eventually, Y/n found out about the $100 I had to pay and felt bad. So, she reached out to me and said that she wanted to pay me back because she didn’t realise how much the fee would be. I told her that I’d just settle on getting to know her better. The rest is history,” Hyunjae finished, looking proud of the way he had intrigued your relatives.

“I don’t like ultimatums,” you defended yourself. “I thought I should teach you a lesson for trying to force a poor girl to go out with you.”

“Lesson learned,” Hyunjae nodded. “Now, I’ll only ever force you to go out with me,” he winked. You felt your face warm at this, your family’s attention on the two of you not helping with your embarrassment. Somehow, Hyunjae was perfectly executing his position of fake boyfriend; so well that even you were momentarily convinced by his act.

“Alright, let’s stop hounding them,” your sister interrupted, taking her seat with her fiancé in tow. “Hyunjae, I’m glad that you didn’t give up on my sister,” she added, sending him an encouraging wink. Hyunjae smiled at her, pleased that your family seemed to warm up to him.

As the evening went on, your sister pulled you aside to speak with you in private. “Hyunjae is way sweeter and funnier than you described,” she admitted to you.

“Really?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Plus he’s really handsome. He has very honest eyes,” she added thoughtfully. “When he sees you, he gets little sparkles in his eyes. Like he can’t believe the treasure he’s looking at.”

You scoffed. “I highly doubt that,” causing your sister to nudge you with her elbow.

“Trust me. I’m about to be a married woman,” she said with an air of wisdom that made you smile. “Hyunjae has it bad for you. I’m just glad he’s not as vacant as you described him to be.”

You had indeed described your ex boyfriend to your sister in detail. And of course you knew that Hyunjae was everything your ex wasn’t: warm, playful, inviting, charming, open; you could go on for days about all the amazing qualities you saw in Hyunjae that you wanted in a partner.

By the time dinner was over, you, Hyunjae, and most of the people at the rehearsal dinner were just a little bit tipsy. You and Hyunjae were mostly just a little bit buzzed, easily making your way back to your hotel room without any trouble or confusion. “That was fun,” you said, lying down on the bed as soon as you arrived. Hyunjae helped you with your shoes before he followed suit, lying down next to you on the bed. “I can’t remember the last time I actually had fun around my extended family.”

Hyunjae smiled. “I’m really glad you had a good time.”

You turned to face him, seeing him already watching you with his head propped up on his hand. Seeing him there, you were reminded of what your sister said about Hyunjae having honest eyes. There was certainly fondness and affection in his eyes, though you couldn’t tell if it was romantic or platonic.

Up until last night, you had never realised you wanted it to be romantic. That evening only seemed to confirm that you did.

“Thank you, Hyunjae,” you whispered. “I genuinely don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

Hyunjae raised the hand he wasn’t leaning on to brush your hair out of your face. “You would’ve done just fine,” he assured you. “Now let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a long day.”

You nodded, getting up to change into your pyjamas. By the time you returned, Hyunjae had done the same, tucking himself under the covers of the bed. “I hope that offer still stands,” he added, referring to how you said he could join you in the bed.

“Just don’t steal the duvet,” you mumbled, getting under the covers and cuddling up to Hyunjae for comfort. He grinned, reaching around to turn the lights off before wrapping an arm around you and nodding off to sleep.

Your sister was having a meltdown.

You had heard of brides getting cold feet right before the wedding ceremony, but you hadn’t expected it from your sister. You were in your silver silk cami bridesmaid dress, having your hair and makeup done perfectly for the occasion so that your sister was happy with how everything looked. And yet, your control-freak sister was freaking out about the idea of marriage.

“I don’t know if I can commit to someone for my whole life,” she ranted, pacing in her wedding dress as you and her bridesmaids tried to calm her breathing.

“But you love him,” you reminded your sister. “You love him so much that commitment isn’t scary around him,” you added.

“But marriage?” she exclaimed. “I don’t know if I can do it,” your sister stopped her pacing when she spotted your concerned expression. “Do you love Hyunjae?” she inquired.

The question threw you. “W-what?” you stammered.

“Do you love Hyunjae?” she repeated. “Could you do this with him? Commit?”

You thought it over.

You and Hyunjae had a long history of friendship together, but you always knew that your friendship with him was special. Sometimes it felt like you could read each other’s minds. Even though your friend group was extremely large, you always made time for one another and would drop anything to help the other person.

Hyunjae was your rock, somebody who steadied you and helped to point you in the right direction when you were lost. And he was beautiful; not just because he was handsome but because he had a heart of absolute gold. He even agreed to come here and pretend to be your boyfriend just to stop you from having one uncomfortable weekend.

“Of course I love him,” you admitted. It was the first time you had said it out loud to yourself, and you were saying it to your sister and all of her bridesmaids. “Of course I would commit to Hyunjae.”

“Isn’t that scary?” your sister whined. “I would give everything to my fiancé. That scares me.”

“It’s terrifying,” you agree. “But the fact that you’re both here means that your love for one another outweighs the fears and uncertainty. Now are you going to leave him standing here alone or are you going to be with the man you love?”

You weren’t sure who you were talking about anymore.

Hyunjae understood what Jacob was talking about when he said that attending a wedding with the person you love is different.

The moment you walked up the aisle in your silver dress, Hyunjae felt all the air leave his lungs. It almost hurt how stunning you were, and how much Hyunjae wanted to run up to you and kiss you. You smiled at your sister’s guests, winking at Hyunjae as you passed him to stand up by the alter, waiting for your sister. You gave her fiancé encouraging smiles, knowing that he felt nervous about the ceremony too.

Hyunjae was sat somewhere in the middle of the chairs, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself since he didn’t know your sister or her fiancé personally. He had taken a seat with your kind aunt, the one who had asked him how the two of you met the night before, and she could see exactly what Hyunjae was thinking.

“Are you thinking of proposing?” she wondered, causing Hyunjae to choke on air in surprise.

“M-me?” he asked. “Oh. No. Um, not yet,” Hyunjae admitted to your aunt, feeling shy that she had just asked him out of nowhere. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, the way you look at her,” your aunt said, as if this explained everything. “It looks like you’re ready to walk up that aisle to meet her at the alter at any moment.”

“Oh,” Hyunjae blushed a deep red.

Everyone stood for your sister when it was time, compliments and happy sighs filling the room at the sight of her in her wedding gown.

As the wedding proceeded, Hyunjae could feel his eyes filling with tears. Your sister and her fiancé loved each other so openly and intensely. Everything they said perfectly matched what Hyunjae wanted to tell you.

You seemed to be in a similar situation, on the verge of tears because you knew your sister was going to marry the love of your life, and because you knew you had found yours. It was always easy for you to find Hyunjae in a crowd; the two of you were like opposite sides of a magnet, constantly pulling towards each other. You smiled at him, a small laugh leaving your lips when you saw how emotional Hyunjae was getting.

If Hyunjae’s eyes were as honest as your sister said they were, then Hyunjae must have loved you.

“You look so beautiful,” Hyunjae complimented as the two of you danced. Your sister’s wedding reception was in full swing. She had thanked you profusely for helping her through her meltdown, citing the day as the most wonderful in her entire life. Her husband looked at her with so much affection that you felt your heart stutter when your sister returned his every emotion with a single glance.

“Thanks, Hyunjae,” you thanked him. “You look very handsome this evening, too,” you admitted, adjusting your hands around Hyunjae’s shoulders to be more comfortable. “How did you like the ceremony? I hope this weekend wasn’t a total waste for you,” you added.

“Not at all,” Hyunjae shook his head. “I had a lot of fun this weekend. Your sister’s interesting, she’s a lot like you.”

“I hope that’s a compliment,” you joked.

“You are magnificent,” Hyunjae said as seriously as he could. “It’s the highest compliment I could grant her.”

You smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Aw, is that it?” your sister’s familiar voice teased as she and her husband danced next to you and Hyunjae. “Come on, I want to see a real kiss!”

“Dude,” you hissed, embarrassed at her prodding.

“Oh come on,” your sister rolled her eyes. “It’s my wedding day! You can’t say no to a bride on her wedding day, it’s bad luck.”

“Isn’t that only before the wedding?” you changed the subject, not wanting to make Hyunjae uncomfortable. You could see him shuffling his feet as his grip on your waist loosened.

“No, it’s the whole day,” your sister insisted cheekily.

Hyunjae was growing exceedingly nervous. “Excuse me,” he muttered to your sister, bowing his head just slightly before releasing his gentle grip on you and stepping off the dance floor.

You were left alone, surprised by his sudden exit. Your sister and her husband seemed just as startled. “Is he really uncomfortable with PDA?” your sister asked. “I’m sorry, Y/n, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine,” you assured her, giving her what you hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m just going to go check on him. Congratulations again, you two,” you gave them both a hug and followed in Hyunjae’s footsteps. You found him further down by the beach, sitting in the slightly damp sand and staring out into the dark ocean. “Hey,” you greeted, taking a seat next to him. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Hyunjae replied, purposely keeping his eyes trained on the ocean despite seeing you trying to meet his gaze. “It’s fine. You always kissed your ex in front of us, I should have realised that your sister would ask about something like that.”

The mention of your ex boyfriend made you raise an eyebrow. “Right,” you said, discouraged that Hyunjae was acting so cold. “I didn’t realise that the idea of kissing me was so horrible that you had to leave,” you tried to say it as a joke but though your tone gave away how his actions had burned you.

“Don’t joke about that,” Hyunjae said.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t find it funny,” Hyunjae snapped. “Okay? I don’t find it funny that kissing me is a joke to you.”

You backtracked. “Hyunjae, that’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” Hyunjae asked, finally turning his head to meet your eyes. His usually bright eyes were clouded with negativity; insecurity and sadness prominent in them. “You joke that the idea of kissing you repulses me, when that’s exactly how you feel about me.”

“That’s not true,” you denied immediately. “I would never think that about you, nor would I joke about that, Hyunjae,” you sighed, closing your eyes tightly. The image of Hyunjae being upset with you only made your head spin. “I just said that because I didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything. Of course I don’t hold the fact that you don’t see me romantically against you, I just didn’t know that you were so against it, is all. I guess that’s good to know,” you mumbled.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Hyunjae inquired. “After all these years, you can’t possibly think that I don’t have feelings for you.”

Your eyes opened. “Well, you never said anything…” you trailed off. “I’m not one to make assumptions.”

Hyunjae gathered all the courage he had left in him, ignoring the rising beating of his heart. “I’m saying something now.” he said. “And I’m telling you that I’ve loved you since that day you called me to compensate me for the $100 fee I paid the library for your textbook. I loved you then, and I love you now.”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss Hyunjae’s lips. “I love you too, Lee Jaehyun,” you told him as sincerely as you could muster, stroking his cheek with your thumb and relishing in the way his arms came to wrap around you. Hyunjae leaned in to kiss you again, longer this time and with more eagerness than the first time. You felt your lips bruise just slightly at the pressure and duration of your kiss, allowing Hyunjae to pull away so you could both catch your breath.

Hyunjae smiled, pulling you into a hug and pressing a kiss to your nose, cheek, and temple. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop pretending to be your boyfriend.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling Hyunjae closer to you, inhaling his scent and memorising the way you felt in his grasp. “I think I’m okay with that.” You sat like that for a while, listening to the ocean waves and letting your hair blow in the breeze.

“Hey Y/n?” Hyunjae asked, earning a hum. “Beach wedding or church wedding?” he asked.

Chuckling, you pull away from the hug to take his face in your hands. Observing his eyes and the way they glittered with love, you shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

note: i feel like this one the cutest one so far but idk. what did you guys think? i hope you enjoyed it!!

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #hyunjae #hyunjae imagines #hyunjae x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #tbznetwork #lee jaehyun #the boyz fic #the boyz fluff #the boyz au #2k celebration #fic: let's play pretend #the boyz drabbles #deobiwritersnet

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bts-reveries · 3 years ago

Text

expect the unexpected | 17

You spent the previous night at your parent’s house while your dad stayed at the hospital with your mom. They wanted to make sure that everything was okay before they let her go. Your dad let you know that there’s food in the fridge and to eat when you get home.

You weren’t hungry so you decided to get some shut eye… until midnight when you were suddenly hungry and ate every leftovers your parents had.

Long story short, you came back to the hospital the following morning and you’re now in your mom’s hospital room, throwing up in the toilet.

“Are you okay hon?” Your dad asks, peeking his head into the bathroom.

“Ugh I think I ate too much last night,” you say, getting up from the bathroom floor.

“Are you sure that’s all? Nothing else?” Your dad asks you as you go over to the sink to rinse your mouth and wash your hands. “Do you want to get checked? We are in a hospital already,” he laughs.

“No, I think I’m fine. I’m just going to go lay down, I kind of feel light headed.”

“Okay sweetie, if you still aren’t feeling well by the time mom’s discharged, we’re going to get you checked next. Can’t be too safe. You probably caught something,” your dad says, walking to your mom’s side.

“What’s wrong?” Your mom asks you when you walk out of the bathroom. You shake your head, you didn’t want her to worry, she’s been through enough.

“Nothing, I just ate too much last night right before I went to sleep,” you answer, sitting down on the chair by her.

“Okay… I see.”

“Are you going to forget us again,” Soojin says as the four of them drive up to the school drop off. Jin scoffs.

“Yah, it was an accident,” Jin says, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll be working at our building today. So I won’t fall asleep and I will be able to pick you up on time.”

Soojin pouts, “I like it when Uncle Yeonjun takes us home..”

“And that’s why it isn’t happening anymore,” Jin says with wide eyes, turning his head back to look at her. “Daddy will be the one to pick you up until college. Okay?”

“Fine,” Soojin says with a small eye roll, her older brother laughs at her.

“Okay, I love you both, be good,” Jin says, unlocking the doors and waving his hand at the kids.

“Can you at least bring uncle Yeo--”

“Leeeeeeaaavee,” Jin says, pointing out the door, interrupting Soojin. His daughter huffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she gets down from the car.

“Bye dad, we love you,” Minseok says, speaking for both him and his sister. “Bye Han-Han,” he says, tickling Haneul’s chin, making him laugh.

“Okay Haneul, you’re going to work with me today,” Jin says, driving off as soon as his two oldest gets to their friends.

“No auntie Sohu and auntie Rin today?” Haneul asks, already pouting. Jin glances at him from the rearview mirror.

“Nope, not today. Maybe tomorrow okay? Daddy has a lot to do,” Jin tells him. “You’ll see uncle Kookie later though.”

“Uncle JaaayKaaay~” Haneul says it the same way that Jungkook does it, nose scrunch and everything.

“Yeah uncle JaaayKaaay,” Jin repeats.

“Okay, the first meeting is in ten minutes,” Yeonjun says, walking right alongside Jin. The two power walked to the nearest elevator. Haneul was running right behind them since his little legs couldn’t keep up.

“Daddyy,” Haneul whines, starting to cry. The two older men stop mid step, looking down at Haneul. Who is now kneeling down onto the floor and crying. Throwing a tantrum in the middle of the room.

Haneul begins to start screaming, heads are turning towards them three now.

“Aigoo,” Jin sighs, bending down to pick up his son. “What’s wrong?” If you were there, you would know it was because they weren’t giving him attention. I mean, I’d hate it if my two friends were walking ahead of me and leaving me behind, forgetting about me!

“You’re okay~” Jin says, bouncing Haneul in front of him. Hanuel screams in response, bending backwards. Jin smiles sheepishly and bows at the people who walk by, staring. “Shh shh,” he hushed. “He’s being so dramatic,” Jin says to Yeonjun.

“Umm sir, he is your son after all…” He replies.

“Are you feeling better?” Your dad asks you as you three get to their car. Your mom was finally getting discharged, so the three of you were leaving the hospital now.

“I think so,” you say, hopping in the back seat. “My stomach still hurts a bit though..” you say, rubbing your belly. “I shouldn’t have eaten so much, so late last night..”

“Maybe it’s your period honey,” your mom says, looking back at you from the passenger’s seat.

“You’re right,” you say, coming to the realization that you haven’t had your period yet. You take out your phone to check when the last time you had your period. You had an app for it, especially since you take birth control as well, you keep well track of your period. Although now that you think of it… you should’ve had it already this month.

“Dad, before we go home, can we stop by the store? I just need to grab something really quick.”

“Okay, moving on. As some of you know, I had a meeting yesterday with Mr. Lee,” Jin says, sitting in the boardroom and having a meeting with his fellow employees. “We’re good to go with our new building in Busan.” Everyone starts to clap and Haneul looks around the room confused, slowly starting to clap along. He was currently sitting on Yeonjun’s lap.

“With that said, a few of you will be going to Busan to scope out the new area where our building will be,” Jin says, scanning over the employees sitting around the table.

Haneul squirms out of Yeonjun’s hold, running to his dad.

“Are any of you interested in going?” Jin asks. “Or I can pick-- Haneul, later,” Jin says, whispering that last part as Haneul tries to climb onto his lap. Jin looks over to Yeonjun and gives him the look saying ‘get him please.’ Yeonjun immediately gets up and runs towards Jin, bending down to pick up Haneul.

“No!” Haneul yells, turning around to give Yeonjun a dirty look. Haneul turns back towards Jin and tries to climb onto his lap. “I only want daddy,” he says.

“I’m sorry everyone, he’s been a little clingy lately,” Jin says with a slight laugh, picking Haneul up and placing him on his lap. “Let’s continue, does anyone want to go?”

A few people raise their hand up, Yeonjun writes their name down.

“Perfect,” Jin says. “This will be next week, your transportation and hotel will all be paid for.” Haneul turns around and wraps his arms around Jin’s neck, standing on his lap.

“Haneul, can you sit down please,” Jin says, tapping his little butt. “Come on, daddy is working.”

“Noo,” Haneul whines, hugging Jin’s neck even tighter and leaning on him. Jin sighs.

“Okay, I think it’s time for a nap,” he says, looking over at Yeonjun. “I’m sorry everyone, we’re going to have to cut this meeting a bit short. I’ll follow up with you who volunteered to go to Busan later. By tonight you will get a message from me. For everyone else, thank you for your time, I’ll see you all later.”

Everyone says their thank you’s and gets up to leave the room. Jin sighs, rubbing Haneul’s back as he stands up from his chair.

“Go ahead and get some food to eat Yeonjun or whatever else you want to do, I’ll be up in my office. I’ll put Haneul down for a nap,” Jin says, bouncing side to side to help Haneul fall asleep.

“Okay, thank you sir. Would you like me to get anything for you two?” Yeonjun asks. Jin shakes his head.

“No, we're good for now, thank you.” With that, Yeonjun walks out and Jin stays a while in the boardroom to try and soothe Haneul.

“Haneul-ah~,” Jin says calmly. “We’re going to be here all day, please be good for daddy..”

You sat on the toilet (with the lid closed) waiting for the results.

Can this really be happening?

You just got back from the store and are now in your parent’s house. You told your parent’s that you were just going to get medicine, which you did, but you really went for one other thing.

*Dit. Dit. Dit.*

The three minutes were up and you were nervous to check.

What if…

“He’s sleeping so peacefully,” Jin says, standing over Haneul (who was asleep on the couch he had in his office).

“I can go pick up the kids again hyung,” Yeonjun says. He was standing next to Jin.

“No, I promised the kids I’ll be the one to pick them up today. Can you just watch him while I’m gone? I won’t take long and he should still be asleep by the time I come back,” Jin says, scratching his head. Yeonjun nods.

“Yeah, no problem hyung. I’ll watch him.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll be back in like fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Hey you remembered us,” Minseok jokes as he gets into the car.

“Of course I did,” Jin says.

“Where’s Haneul?” Soojin asks, looking at the empty car seat. “You forgot him! Mommy is going to be soo mad at you!” Jin laughs, looking back at them.

“I didn’t forget him, he’s sleeping in my office. He’s with uncle Yeonjun,” Jin tells her. Soojin’s eyes immediately light up at the sound of his name, making Jin roll his eyes. “Anyways, when we get there, we’re going to wake up Haneul and go eat something in the cafeteria. Then we have a shoot to go to, so we’ll be going to our other building.”

“Why do we have two buildings anyways,” Soojin asks, looking out of the window as Jin drives away from their school.

“One is our main location, that’s where my office is at and where all the office work takes place. Our other building is where all the studios are at for our clients to take photo or video shoots,” Jin explains.

“Can I have one of them when we’re bigger,” Soojin asks, kicking her feet against the back of the passenger’s seat.

“Sure princess. One for you, one for Minseok, and one for Haneul.”

“But that’s three, you only have two buildings,” Minseok says. “But I can share with Soojin or Haneul, I don’t mind.” Jin smiles as he hears what Minseok says, but by the look on his daughter’s face, Jin can see Soojin quirking up an eyebrow at her brother from the rear view mirror.

“Don’t worry, you two don’t need to share. We’re opening up another location soon, Haneul can have that one,” Jin tells them.

“Good, because I want my own building,” Soojin says, crossing her hands over her chest. Jin laughs. They really are polar opposites.

The three walk into Jin’s office and Soojin immediately runs to Yeonjun, who is now carrying Haneul.

“Is everything okay?” Jin asks as he hears his son crying, he walks over to his secretary, taking Haneul from him.

“He woke up and started crying when he noticed that you were gone, I tried my best to calm him down.”

“Aigoo, Haneul-ah, why are you being so clingy to daddy lately huh?” Jin says, pressing kisses to his cheek. Haneul lays his head onto Jin’s shoulder and calms down.

“I think you’re just going to have to carry him all day,” Yeonjun says.

“I think so too. I would use a baby carrier on him, but I think he’s too big for that now..”

“Haneul misses mommy that’s why,” Minseok says, rubbing his little brother’s back.

“Should we facetime mommy then?” Jin asks.

“Yes I miss mommy too!!” Soojin says, bouncing up and down.

“Okay okay, we’ll call mommy first and then we’ll go eat,” Jin says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

It’s ringing and ringing

And ringing and ringing

And ringing

Still ringing

And no answer.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

expect the unexpected

♡ part seventeen: no answer ♡

pairings: ceo, dad!jin x interior designer, mom!reader

a/n: short but a lot👀

something to read while we wait for muster day 2!!💗💜♾🪐

taglist: @silentlyimpractical @jillianmarie @waddlebby @cecedrake2217 @ddofa @samros95 @sope-and-shine @joonjoonsmiles @codeinebelle @aianloveseven @Chamchamcham @princessjazzyjazz @notvantaes @casspirit0705 @ramyagovindraj @brinnalaine @ephyra1230 @betysotelo18 @thoughtfultaledreamer @salty-for-suga @cosmicdaylight @dreamcatcherjiah @kookoo-kachoo @justinetingball @josierosie @jayhope88 @butterflylion @hobiismyhopeu @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @ygbubs @catspancake @somewhereofftheglobe @strawberryforever25 @rjsmochii @prdshobi @beeeb05 @eatjeanjin @taekookcaneatme @Cheeely14 @kookietsukkie @anpanman-sonyeondan @glitteringcoffeefreak @chocobetterknot @alpaca1612 @ohmy-fandoms @liljooniecutie @Jikachoo @preciouschimine @fan-ati--c @Joondala @httpmuffin @dammit-jjk @jikooksgirl19

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whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

Text

✶ ——— MENDING ; d.d.

summary: something has unsettled din. you set to find out what. affections brew. * set post!chapter 11. contains spoilers! *

pairing: din djarin x gender nuetral!reader

word count: 1.8k of pure pining ‘n’ identity crises !

a/n: it’s another notes app fic, baby! the gif above is from this set by the lovely @thewaythisis! anyways, din can plow me like a field of wheat under the harvest moon whew (panting spongebob meme)

something is bothering him.

it would be a lie to say that din djarin was quiet soul — plainly put, he wasn’t.

he was, if anything, a purposeful and succinct soul who knew how to measure the weight of words when they were spoken. with all the little bell-like tinkers that came from his every step — beskar on beskar — quiet was not a fitting adjective to match that of din djarin. no. he was strong. sturdy. a chant of mando’a in the afternoon sun. intimidating.

something is definitely bothering him.

the ship is a wreck — you’re sure that alone is enough to strike a sore nerve with the mandalorian piloting the vessel. so, as he plots course for the little planet on the edge of nowhere that the striking bo-katan spoke of, you make work on what you can. reinforcing some structural plating, running diagnostics on the fuel-lining that runs beneath the floor plates, and welding the paneling the mon calamari engineer installed to cover the gaping hole in the side of the ship occupies you for a long while.

just the bright flicker of flame and your thoughts.

din hasn’t uttered a word since entering the ship.

you hope, at the very least, he’s taken the time to eat something away from your prying eyes.

the welding torch is hot in your gloved hands when you hear footsteps coming down the ladder into the swaying belly of the razor crest. you knew it was the wing equilibrium counter-weights the moment you took off. not much you can do about it from the inside.

the good news is that the rocking put the child right to sleep.

you pull your goggles down and watch as din djarin carefully carries the little woolen bundle to the hanging hammock within the small cot compartment. he’s exceedingly gentle, incredibly careful. once the child is inside, din dims the lights and closes the door.

you work your gloves off.

he sighs.

again, you can’t help but be struck with worry. the sort that nibbles on your heartstrings just enough to wring a flinch out of you.

“have you eaten?” he asks. his voice is even, almost cold.

you shake your head.

his helmet glints in the overhead light as he juts his chin to the cockpit; wordlessly, you stand and follow — swallows whole by his bulky shadow that looms over you as you hike yourself up the ladder.

din has done some mending of his own, it seems. the netting and twine that was keeping the dash steady had been removed. you can see the tedious, small welding marks from his own tool kit along the seams. you make a mental note to go over it later. in the corner, there’s a pile of the mess.

you land into the passenger’s seat with a huff.

the tube of protein paste that din offers you from his stash beneath the razor crest’s controls has you frowning. but, it’s bantha flavored. better than nothing. if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine it being a piece of steak.

almost.

if a steak was cold, pureed, and poured into a jerky-shaped tube.

din is quiet when swings in his chair, turning to nearly face you. he stretches, straightening his back out, then he crosses his arms. his boots plant themselves on the floor. his stance is wide. his posture is sagging.

you swallow your meal.

“did you eat?” your voice feels small.

din nods.

hm.

“... are you hurt?”

more silence. finally, he shakes his head. you know it’s a lie — the last forty-eight hours have left you both with your fair share of lacerations and deep-tissue bruising. beneath the armor, you can only imagine the sort of bruises he’s gotten.

“... tired?”

“this checklist you’re doing,” he rasps out, head lulling to the side as he looks up at the ceiling, “you should be doing it on yourself.”

you scoff into your meal paste.

“maybe.”

a grunt.

silence follows the exchange for a few minutes. it’s once you’ve managed to choke down the entirety of the bantha-flavored mush that you speak again. it’s not courage the drives the question, but concern.

“be honest, din,” you breathe, “are you alright?”

his helmet turns, t-visor glaring at you in the dim light of the cabin. you can see his fingers, gloved and tucked neatly against his biceps, twitch. he inhales deeply. the beskar glimmers with the light of stars that pass by beyond the cockpit window.

he’s rather a sight to behold.

“no.”

you’re startled back to the moment.

when you speak, your voice is soft. the sort of soft that’s begun to erode din’s usual beskar-grade composure. he’s begun to waver, begun to hesitate around you. he finds he can’t help it. he’d grown quite fond of you and your innate ability to give a shit. you’re not asking because you want to get paid, because you expect something of him. no, you’re asking because it matters to you.

he’s finally starting to understand that after cycles and cycles of time spent trying to find the child’s true place in this mess of a galaxy. you’ve been traveling with him since before nevarro — before... before the covert’s split.

before he started to feel so alone.

and confused.

and angry.

so angry.

how many moments has he denied himself because of this armor? how much kindness, how much care? how many friendships has he ignored for the sake of the creed? how many loves have come and gone, as fickle as stardust? what has he missed?

... has he truly even missed anything? that is the way.

he is all sorts of swirling bitterness now, mouth pulled into a firm line beneath the lip of his helmet. to see those others — true mandalorians, ones with clan-names, with lineage-graced armor, who speak the tongue and have touched the soil of the place he has never called home, but always idolized — reveal their faces...

he’s one of them...

children of the watch...

din’s foot taps.

you lean forward.

“din...?”

“the others,” he speaks suddenly, almost in a bark, “called my clan a coven of zealots. fringe radicalists. they showed me their faces and —”

a ragged sigh.

suddenly, you’re beginning to understand.

he’s frustrated.

“i’ve lived my life under a strict code,” din continues, helmet tilted up the ceiling. he’s tracing the bolts with his dark eyes, “one that has given me a purpose, a family, a home. but i can’t help but begin to question the cost.”

you’re listening. you’re pulling your knees up, arms cradling them close. your expression is soft.

“i thought...” then, he lets out a gritted huff of frustration, “i — i never considered my practices to be radical. i thought they were as every mandalorian lived.”

your words are soft. “... in all fairness, your people are living in a diaspora, din. the empire scattered you all to the far corners of the galaxy. it wasn’t as if you were seeing your kin every weekend."

din grunts.

you roll the hem of your tunic between your fingers.

“why is this bothering you?”

“i’ve spent my entire life in armor.”

you frown. din’s head turns and you feel a sad look pull your brows together. you hadn’t... well. his mood is beginning to make a lot of sense now. the frustration, the quiet. all of it.

“i’ve never felt the sea breeze on my face,” he continues, “or... or the kiss of another person. all because i lived my life by the creed i was raised upon. and i was told upon breaking that creed, i’d no longer have a purpose. dar’manda.”

“dar’manda?” the language is harsh on your tongue.

“to... to lose your heritage. to not be mandalorian. the covert believed that bearing your face to another outside of marriage was grounds for ex-communication from the clan. exile.”

“well,” you say after a long moment, crossing your legs and perching on the chair, “that explains the lack the kissing. certainly wasn’t the most important thing on the docket, was it?”

that manages to worm a laugh out of din. the sort that rattles his shoulders and makes his armor swell. he ducks his chin. the sound is still warm as it crackles through his vocalizer.

“interesting point of focus.”

“shut up,” you shirk, “you brought it up.”

“... do you blame me?”

you grow quiet at that but shake your head. your chin finds your hand.

“no,” you say softly, “i don’t. i’m sorry.”

“don’t be.”

“what will you do?”

din straightens a bit at that.

there’s only kindness in your eyes.

“it doesn’t matter now,” din says curtly, as if it’s the easiest answer in the world, “the child is my priority. keep you both safe is my priority.”

slowly, you amble up. your hand finds his pauldron, pressing gently into the fabric between his neck and shoulder oh-so-gently. you mind the affection blooming at his words; you’re careful with how you approach it, just as he is. as if a reflex, his hand snatches up to grip yours tightly.

you welcome it.

you squeeze the cold leather of his gloved hand.

“it does matter,” is uttered out like a sigh; din can’t look up at you. he’s sure his entire chest will burst, “you can’t bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, din.”

“i can manage.”

“let me help.”

a scoff. suddenly his hold tightens. his thumb, ever-so-carefully, ghosts the knuckle of your hand.

“you do enough.”

it’s your turn to snort.

“i’m practically freeloading, din —”

“no,” he barks, sitting up a bit straighter. now his visor tilts up, and you swear if you looked hard enough, you could see the slope of a nose, the curve of a lip. maybe, if he tilted his head, you could see his jaw — a ghost of a beard, a flash of a throat. he is human. it’s moments like these that remind you, “no, you’re important. you care.”

“— and i eat all your food —”

“you care about me and you care about the child and it matters more than you realize.”

his tone is so final, you feel as if it’s struck an ending note. as if the conversation has ended. that the welling of emotion behind his words is not to be questioned, not to be considered. in the last few cycles, moments like these have become more frequent but still cherished. as rare as they are, they never fail to make you feel like there’s star-shine in your veins. he isn’t one for grandiose confessions. but... this feel special.

his words leave your lips parted, mouth agape.

and then, in the tiny cockpit, hand in hand with din djarin, all you can muster is a flustered:

“you know, if that helmet wasn’t in the way i would have kissed you cycles ago.”

now, he’s embarassed. it has him laughing — but quiet and shy and all sorts of meak that make the brute of a man seem boyish. his voice is crackled alive with a new-found comfort. he is better now, more like himself and more.

“don’t feed the indentity crisis.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagine #mandalorian season 2 spoilers #OHHH DIN MY BABY BOY

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calcifermovesthecastle · 4 years ago

Text

Shared Language

Ghiaccio x Florist!Reader, gn pronouns, fluff ending

1000 follower giveaway for @therealcozyy after a million years I’m so sorry

Warnings: kind of angst, hospitalization and IV’s but nothing major

At the end of a busy day, all you want to do is close up shop and trudge to the apartment the floor above you, and collapse into bed. Thirteen Bridal Bouquets, Add on roughly six each for bridesmaids, as well as walkin customers have you frenzied and harrowed and exhausted, your hands aching with the amount of work you pulled today. Annoyance shoots through you when you hear the patronizing ring of the bell, signaling someone new, and you squeeze your eyes shut, collecting yourself before you turn around.

"I'm horribly sorry, but we are closed for the night, so-" Your voice trails off when your eyes graze over the Passione pin glinting on the man's shirt, and you visibly wilt when your eyes travel up to his face. "Of course. How much do I owe you?"

"It's a protection fee. It's not any lower or higher than it's ever been," He responds, looking just as annoyed with the situation as you feel. You sigh, biting your tongue, and crouch behind the counter, skimming the shelves for the envelope you usually keep the fee in.

"Right, here you are. Um, let me count it out just to make sure I have it all, if that's alright?"

His eyes meet yours, narrowing, before he shrugs, resting his hands on the counter. You flip through the bills, organizing them by every fifty euros. He watches you count like a hawk, his eyes flicking to your face when you purse your lips in a particular way and freeze.

"Shit."

You disappear into the back office, and he can see you rummaging around, looking more and more stressed as you go.

"Is there a problem?" He calls after you, an edge to his voice.

"No, no, it's-" You come back out to the front, looking near tears as you open the cash register. Your voice cracks when you speak again. "No, there's not a problem. Give me just a moment."

By the time you've finished counting, there's ten euros left in the register, and tears have started to pool into your eyes. You have to swallow to speak, and when you do, your voice is soft and catches on each word.

"There. Ten-Ten thousand Euros." You recount once more just to make sure it's all there, tucking it back into the envelope and handing it over to him. His eyebrows knit as he glances to your register, and your lip trembles when you speak again. "Now, really, sir, I do have to close up for the night."

Even though he's left your shop, he remains in his car, watching you lean over your desk and cry as you appear to do some calculations. Wordlessly, he drives away.

You're in the middle of arguing with a customer on the price of a standard funeral basket when the bell rings, and one glance over at the door has you panicking.

"Shit, sir, you need to leave," You usher the fuming customer out the door and swivel, your eyes wide, at the man from last night. "Was it not enough?! Are you going to take my-"

"Woah, slow down!" He holds up his hands. "I just- do you want- cazzo," He spits, shoving his hands in his pockets. You shift nervously, hysteria quickly threatening to well up past your throat. "Shit. I saw that you didn't have much left yesterday, so I wanted to- buy you lunch."

You aren't sure if you heard him properly, but when what he says finally registers, your legs crumple underneath you.

You wake to a concerned blue haired man, and a curious purple haired one who's taking your pulse and checking you over for injuries.

"Oh, good, you're awake," The purple haired one smiles cooly, helping you sit up. You press a hand to the back of your head, wincing. "Ghiaccio here called me in a frenzy when you passed out. I'd pass out too if he ever asked me out to eat."

The blue haired one- Ghiaccio, glares daggers at his companion, practically frothing at the mouth, his teeth grinding back and forth. The purple haired one pays him no mind, continuing his conversation with you as if you were old friends.

"I don't think you need to go to the hospital, but my advice is close early and get some rest.

"I- what?" Your mind is still trying to catch up to what's happening- two men from Passione acting so casual with you it's like you've known them for years. You frown, gingerly rubbing the back of your head. Not Ghiaccio chuckles, the corners of his lips quirking up with the action as he repeats himself.

"I- I can't. I can't afford to close early. My rent is due in three days and I have 300 euros. That makes me 1700 euros short and if I'm short again I'll lose my business."

"Have you eaten since last night?" Ghiaccio speaks up, his words harsher than he probably intends. You stare at him blankly.

"No?"

"Do you want to?"

"I-" You glance at the clock. "I would, but…"

"What if we brought you some food back here?" Not Ghiaccio coos, earning a death glare from his companion. You bite your lip, slowly getting to your feet.

"I guess so? If you're offering."

"I'll be back in forty minutes," Ghiaccio ushers his companion out of your shop, and you're left alone to mull over what happened.

True to his word, he strolls back into your shop forty five minutes later, a bottle of water and a box of margherita pizza in hand. He sets it on your counter, biting his bottom lip nervously.

"Are you pitying me?" You ask him quietly, reaching out for the bottle of water, pausing just before you grasp it.

"Since when is doing something nice for someone pitying them?" He looks genuinely taken aback, and you can see anger rising in his face. You decide to let the issue go, opening the box and taking a slice of pizza.

"It's not something you had to do," You take a bite, feeling a little awkward that you're eating in front of him. "But thank you."

He takes a slice of pizza for himself, looking uncomfortably stiff as he eats. You share a tense silence with him, your mind reeling with the possibilities of his presence.

"Are you not enjoying yourself?"

"I could ask you the same thing," You turn to him, pulled out of your funk. "You're standing in my lobby still as a statue, looking like I just gave you the worst news of your life."

"What the hell does that mean?" He snaps, stiffening even more. You cover your mouth to hide the smile forming on your lips. Maybe you could enjoy his company after all.

"It means if your eyebrows knit together any further, you're going to form a unibrow," You take a discreet sip of the water he gave you, laughing when he swivels to face the window, trying to see what you're describing.

His heart stutters when he hears it, the way your mirth sounds so musical and carefree. God, he thinks to himself. He could listen to that forever.

"Hey, listen," You set the bottle of water down, moving around behind the counter for a moment. When you look satisfied, he watches as you come around the counter and present him with a small bouquet, mixed with white clover, pink sweet pea, Hydrangeas, and peach colored roses. "Thank you."

His face burns as he reaches out and takes the flowers, his heart hammering in his chest when his hand grazes yours. You smile gently at him, retreating back behind the counter. He can't find anything else to say, so he gives you a gruff goodbye and leaves your shop, sitting in his car long after he arrives home.

"Who're the flowers from?" Prosciutto looks up from his book, eyebrow raised in question as Ghiaccio enters the hideout. Ghiaccio balks, stammering in a mix of embarrassment and indignation.

"The florist three blocks down. Why do you need to know?"

"Oh? They never give me flowers when I collect their protection fee," Prosciutto hums, tilting his head.

"When's the last time you bought them lunch?" Melone drapes himself over the back of the couch Prosciutto lounges on, grinning coyly at Ghiaccio as he searches for a vase. Prosciutto hums again in understanding.

"Their shop still not doing too well, huh? How much did they have left this time?"

"You make it sound like you want their business to fail," Pesci whines, jutting his lower lip out. "They're always so nice to me when I collect the fee. They'd lose their home if they shut down."

"They had ten euros," Ghiaccio answers, grabbing a cup and filling it with water, setting the arrangement of flowers inside and carrying it to his room. He gingerly places it on his windowsill, tilting it until he's satisfied that it would get the best amount of sunlight. Prosciutto appears in the door, entering without asking and leaning over Ghiaccio's shoulder to peer at the flowers. His mouth quirks up into a smile when he's satisfied and turns to leave.

"What? What's that face for?" Ghiaccio stops him from leaving, his tone demanding. Prosciutto looks too smug for his own good, his eyes slanted downwards as he studies Ghiaccio's form.

"Look up the meaning of those flowers and you'll understand," Prosciutto sidesteps and leaves with a wave of his hand, leaving Ghiaccio fuming.

He had wanted to come by sooner, but unfortunately, got caught up in an odd schedule where he'd travel from job to job, and got stuck in Rome for a month on a hit that only paid One Hundred thousand euros. By the time he'd come back home, he did nothing but sleep and keep up on the paperwork for two days.

The next time he shows up at your shop, you're not there, and the windows and doors have been boarded up. The sign on the entrance says "Gone out of business."

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit!" He kicks the door frame furiously with each swear, earning some strange glances and some comments.

"Christ, man, they weren't even the best florist in town. It's a wonder they stayed afloat as long as they did."

"Heard it was because they couldn't pay their rent this month. Honestly, with how much Passione charges, it's not even a protection fee anymore, it's an eviction notice waiting to happen."

"Honestly, they're just flowers. Why is he so worked up?"

"The person running the shop wasn't even that personable."

The crowd he'd accumulated falls silent when he turns around, his expression nothing less than smoldering. Some furtive glances at his pin, and soon, the street is empty.

He meanders back home, kicking pebbles to the side, glowering at anyone even remotely in his way, and slams the door so hard it almost falls off of the hinges when he arrives, earning a displeased look from Prosciutto.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Where the fuck are they?"

"That's rather vague," Prosciutto lights a cigarette and leans back on the couch, resting his ankle on his knee. "Did you have a hit go wrong, or-"

"The fucking-" Ghiaccio all but stomps over to where his colleague sits, ripping the cigarette from his mouth and taking a deep dreg himself. Prosciutto's brow furrows in annoyance, but he doesn't say anything as he pulls out another from his silver case and lights it. "The florist. They went out of business. Where did they go?"

"Like I should know the answer to that," Prosciutto scoffs, tapping his ashes into the tray on the end table. Ghiaccio follows suit, taking another deep inhale, sputtering when it goes up his nose. Prosciutto huffs again, shrugging. "What am I? A babysitter? I told you they were going to go under."

"Well, who collected their fee last?" Ghiaccio throws himself into the chair perpendicular to Prosciutto, tapping his ashes out. Prosciutto hums.

"Had to have been Risotto. The rest of us were all on hits at the time it's usually collected."

Ghiaccio bolts up, putting out his half smoked cigarette, earning a glare from Prosciutto.

"If you're going to steal my smokes, the least you could do is finish them. These are expensive, you know."

"Then buy a cheaper brand," Ghiaccio retaliates, walking back towards Risotto's office. "We're on a budget anyways, aren't we?"

Just barely in earshot, he can hear Prosciutto telling him to fuck off. Inhaling deeply, he knocks on his capo's door.

"No clue."

"What the fuck do you mean, no clue?" Ghiaccio's voice is nearing hysterics, and he taps his foot fast, his eyes blown wide. Risotto's demeanor doesn't change, he just hums.

"Exactly that. I collected their fee two weeks ago. I was in and out. I didn't even know they were shut down until just five minutes ago, when you burst in here screaming about it."

"Cazzo. CAZZO! Fine, I'll find them myself!"

"You said Melone went and helped you with a fainting spell they had? See if he can help."

"See if that slimy- oh."

Of course.

Of course it had to snow.

You sit against the brick wall of the alleyway, doing your best to ignore the drug deal to your left, and the way your stomach twists painfully.

"Hey! Hey, you!"

You hunker down, your brow furrowed miserably, and close in on yourself a little more to stave off the cold.

"Hey, you, on the ground! Get the fuck outta here. This is my turf!" Your screamer's legs appear in front of you, and you look up at him, dead eyed. "Jeez, you look like real shit, you know? When's the last time you ate?"

"Leave me alone."

"What, not even a hello?" Your perpetrator sneers, crouching to your level. You don't have it in you to even glare. You're too hungry. He scoffs, eyeing you. "Tch. Find somewhere else to starve to death, huh? You're making it hard for me to do my business."

"Do you have to humiliate me any more than I already am?" You sigh, trying to get to your feet. "Fine. Just leave me alone."

You lean heavily on the wall, your legs trembling underneath you. Homelessness has not treated you well, and the stares your emaciated body receive only further your spiral into despair.

You've barely made it to the next alley over when your legs give out, and you collapse face first into the accumulated snow. Hazily, you think to yourself that you have to get something to drink somehow, and pull yourself up, grabbing handfuls and shoving it into your mouth, nevermind how cold you already are, your thin long sleeves and tattered excuse for pants clinging wetly to your body. The only thing you can do now is wish for death to come faster than it does. You fall down onto your side and stare blankly at the opposite wall, willing yourself to fall asleep.

You think you see a pair of legs come to a halt in front of you before you slip into a haze.

When you wake again, a flat white ceiling greets you instead of a cloudy sky, and you notice the weight of a blanket on you. Hazily, you glance over and notice an IV drip hanging out of your arm, and a somewhat familiar blond haired man in a suit sitting next to your bed, smoking a cigarette and absentmindedly reading a newspaper. His eyes flick over when he senses your movement, and his brow shoots up. The paper is set aside, and he takes a generous hit from his cigarette before speaking.

"Good morning. We weren't sure if you were going to pull out of that or not. You've been asleep for almost four days. It's funny. You lose your business, and suddenly, you drop off of our radar. It was quite a chore to find you, you know."

"Are you mocking me?" You croak, trying to pull yourself up into a sitting position. The blond appraises you for a minute, puffing smoke out of his mouth. "Are we in a hospital? I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to smoke in hospitals."

"I doubt the staff is going to give me a hard time," The man speaks lightly, lounging back. "You certainly are something. You've been awake two minutes and you already have a smart mouth?" A small smile lights up his features. "I guess you could say that you're a trooper."

"I'm starving," You bite your lip, turning away, your eyes widening when you finally place the man. "Shit! You're from Passione! Oh my god, oh, I lost my-"

"I already know that," The man waves you off. "I'm just here to keep an eye on you and take you home once you get discharged."

"But I don't- I don't have a home," You place your thumbnail between your teeth, looking at him anxiously. He dismisses you again, snubbing out his smoke.

"That's why I'm here, kid."

His vagueness annoys you, but one glance at the box of apple juice and ham sandwich on your bedside tray has anything you want to say dying in your mouth, and by the time you've scarfed it down, tears spark at the corner of your eyes, and any animosity towards the gangster has dissipated.

"Thank you."

The blond- he's since introduced himself as Prosciutto, drives in silence away from the hospital, not saying anything to you about where you're going. You fidget nervously in the passenger seat, jumping when he parks the care and tells you that you've arrived.

You're still a little unsteady on your feet, so Prosciutto guides you down the stairs with a hand on the small of your back, and leans across you to unlock and open the door. The minute you step inside, you're greeted with almost everyone who's come to collect your protection fees. The only one missing is the blue haired one who bought you lunch- Ghiaccio.

The...boss… Risotto, as introduced, gives you a quick tour of your new residence, telling you that everything is free range, that he's going to have you take on some of the deskwork in return, and shows you to your room. Inside is a bed and a few changes of clothes in the closet. At this point, you're teetering on the edge of bawling your eyes out, and you can barely choke out a thank you, giving him a wobbly smile. You swear you can see him smile in return.

You're sitting on the edge of your bed that night, fidgeting nervously, your mind spinning 100 miles per hour, when there's a knock at your door. You practically jump out of your skin, and call out a shaky "Come In."

The door creaks open slowly, and there he is, his hands hidden behind his back.

Ghiaccio.

You stand slowly, your eyes searching his face.

"Did you-" You catch yourself, starting towards him hesitantly. He seems just as hesitant as he walks towards you. "Did you make this happen?"

"Not really," His voice is soft and hoarse, and the way his brow is furrowed tells you just how worried he was, but the light in his eyes shows you how relieved he feels to see you in person again. "I just suggested it, really. Sort of… Panicked... When I saw your- your shop-" His voice falters when you reach out and grab his shoulder. Tears are welling in your eyes for what feels like the eightieth time today, and your lower lip trembles when your hand comes in contact with him. He's a little cold to the touch, but it's comforting and refreshing.

"Thank you," You manage. He swallows thickly, revealing his hands and shoving something harshly in your direction. He's beet red now, and looking anywhere but you. You grab it, taken aback, and look down to inspect it.

Now you really start to cry, tears spilling onto the arrangement of Daffodils, Daisies, purple lilacs, irises, and lavender roses. So much said in one little bouquet. A sob expels from your throat, and you look up at him, catching him watching you out of the corner of his eye.

You set the flowers on your bed, stepping forward to wrap your arms around him.

"They're good?" He sounds nervous, and stiffens at the contact.

"They're wonderful," You confirm, your voice thick as you bury your face into his shoulder. His arms wind around you, then, and you can hear the relief in his voice when he murmurs to you again.

"Welcome home."

#Ghiaccio x reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo no kimyou na bouken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jjba #jojos #jojo's #la squadra x reader #Prosciutto #Ghiaccio #Melone #Pesci #risotto #la squadra

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years ago

Text

slow hand

pairing: jack daniels / reader

word count: 1624

summary: after another failed date, your coworker takes it upon himself to show you how you should be treated.

a/n: my first ever commissioned fic! the prompt was “slow dancing with jack” from the darling @writeforfandoms 💕 i hope you enjoy!! (side note, the reader’s moniker is “moscow mule”, affectionately referred to as “mule”

✨buy me a ko-fi✨

jack can tell by the tension in your shoulders and the exhaustion in your eyes that your previous night didn’t go as planned. it was supposed to be a pleasant night out filled with dancing and good food, smiles and close touches. the evening should have ended with one of you going to the other’s place and seeing where the night went from there. you had said as much when he asked you what your plans were over lunch in his office the afternoon before, but the waves of dejection rolling off you sang a different tune.

the first flaw in that plan showed itself when your date was over an hour late picking you up. a lame excuse or two slipped from his lips but you ignored them, favoring to just pretend like the night didn’t begin on a sour note and cross your fingers for the rest of the evening to go smoother.

you could have crossed every finger and toe and your eyes till they stuck, but that evening was one concocted by the devil himself to ruin your positive attitude. when you finally got to the club, everything was just off. your date kept getting distracted by other patrons (or rather, the asses of other patrons) and when he went to the bar to retrieve drinks, he didn’t come back for twenty minutes. even in some of the more densely packed clubs, it wouldn’t take twenty minutes to get two drinks.

by the time your date returned, you were tired and not in the slightest mood to dance. you just drank the free alcohol in a brooding silence. he had the audacity to ask why you were feeling down and it took a mighty amount of willpower to not wrap your hands around his throat and shake it as violently as possible. champ would’ve been mighty proud of the self-restraint you held, that’s for sure.

it was harder than you thought to genuinely have a good time after all you had endured that evening and it was infuriating. just looking at his face reminded you why you were so frustrated. no one deserved to deal with this, you reasoned, so you made an excuse of using the bathroom then slipped away.

originally the plan was to cool down in the bathroom then try again, but when you exited the bathroom and saw him chatting up some redhead at the bar, your resolve left with your patience. with your head high and frustration building, you strode out of the bar, calling a lyft to get you home. the rest of your evening was spent with netflix and junk food on your bed, wondering why you didn’t just do this in the first place. yeah you woke up with a crick in your neck and a half eaten family size bag of chips next to you in bed, but you were content.

armed with a soft smile and your favorite drink, jack made his way to your office. he sat the cup down in front of you and made himself comfortable on the chaise he’s all but claimed as his own, sipping on his own coffee. when you raised an eyebrow at the unprompted kindness, he just shrugged. “just thought you could use a pick-me-up. what happened last night to get you so blue?”

you groaned at his question. “better question is, what didn’t happen last night?” his posture suddenly changed from relaxed to intrigued, elbows propped on his knees and his favorite mug (it was shaped like a cowboy hat) held with both hands as he sat with rapt attention. the previous night was recounted to your friend with not a single detail withheld, including the bag of chips that shared the bed with you.

his attention never left you once and when you finished regaling your tale of woe, he took a contemplative sip from his mug before setting it on the end table next to him. “if you’d’a just called me, mule, i’d have come and got you. no sense paying for a ride home when you’ve got people willin’ to help ya.”

the kindness of this man never ceases to amaze you. ever since you’ve been an agent, jack has oozed southern chivalry and always had a charming smile to send your way, even after the toughest missions. any and all doors were opened for you, he would bring you your favorite drinks if he noticed you were in the dumps (like today); he was the epitome of a southern gentleman.

you give him a smile and shake your head. “i wouldn’t have bothered you so late, jack. i’m just bummed that i didn’t get to dance like i wanted to.”

“well darlin’,” he stands and pulls his phone out of his pocket, flipping through it for a moment before setting his phone down on your desk. he was in front of you now, a hand extended to you as an invitation. it wasn’t until music came from his phone that you realized he had a plan. “may i have this dance?”

alright this is it, you’ve officially ascended.

you place your hand in his with an exaggerated flourish, letting him guide you to the center of your office. the lyrics are recognized immediately from times jack had control over the music en route to and from missions and the blood rushes to your cheeks. “to conway? of course.”

when the lyrics start, you’re immediately grinning at the ease jack softly sings along with; not enough to overpower conway twitty’s voice but plenty enough to make sure you know he’s singing along.

this felt totally different than every other time you’ve danced with jack. there have been missions where you were “spouses” at galas or “dates” to clubs owned by cartel heads, and he always cut every rug he stepped foot on. but none of those days had the same intimacy that you felt with him in this moment. he sang along and held you with intent, his eyes smoother than molasses as they gazed into yours.

you want a man with a slow hand

you want a lover with an easy touch

you want somebody who will spend some time

not come and go in a heated rush

baby, believe me i understand

when it comes to love you want a slow hand

jack didn’t know just how right he was in that assumption. you always feel safe around jack during work, he always has your back on missions and is nothing but a (sometimes cocky) gentleman after hours, but this? this was the kind of safe that made you want to curl up with him and hide from the world, the kind where the only thing you wanted to worry about was if he was going to continue holding you like this.

the song ended, but neither of you paid any mind. jack simply kept on holding you, humming a simple melody as he kept you in his arms as long as he could. you didn’t dare speak and interrupt him, lest he snap out of whatever trance he’s under. this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

it’s peaceful in his arms. if you weren’t so hyper focused on the reality of dancing with him, you could have dozed off with the scent of clean aftershave and leather pillowing you. you don’t even notice that your head fell to his shoulder until he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. his mustache is a gentle scraping sensation, lips warm and gentle giving you such tender affection liable for nearly putting you through the floor.

“was this the dance you wanted, sugar?” he’s never spoken so quietly in all the time you’ve known him. the bold and brash verbosity has been shed, the snakeskin of confidence molting away to reveal new and raw skin. this is jack, stripped of the bravado that comes with being the cowboy he is and all but kneeling at your feet.

you bring a hand from behind his neck to cup his cheek. the way he leans into your hand sends your heart racing, still unused to the gentleness he’s showing. “this is everything i wanted. thank you, jack.” you watch the way his lips twitch into a wide grin at your sincerity, feeling your lips mirroring his.

“JOSÉ CUERVO, YOU ARE A FRIEND OF MINE! I LIKE TO—“

“son of a bitch!” of all the times for your office phone to ring, it just had to be now. you feel jack’s quiet chuckle before you hear it. whether he’s laughing at the ringtone ginger added (it was an inside joke, don’t ask) or your frustration, you don’t know. you don’t want to answer and plan on letting it ring, despite the way it totally obliterated the atmosphere. but jack, ever the pleasantly chaotic man he is, decided that the phone would not go unanswered. so, without letting go of you, he scooched you both back towards your desk until he picks up the phone, his bravado flipped back on with the ease of a lightswitch.

“mule’s office, whiskey speaking… yes ma’am, i’ll get right on that… always my pleasure, bye-bye.” he rested your phone back in its nest and turned to you with a smile. “your secretary just called sugar, said we have a mission to get ready for.”

you groan and slump into his arms. “now that don’t mean we can’t dance more later,” he reassures you with a quick peck on your cheek. “i mean, we’ve got the jet to ourselves and you have that spotty thingy you rattle on about.”

“you mean spotify?”

“prezactly.”

“... did you just combine ‘precisely’ and ‘exactly’?”

“you catch on quick, darlin’.”

whiskey taglist: @catsnkooks @obirain @themarcusmoreno @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @captainrexstan @darthadeline @majorshiraharu @getdookuedon @max--phillips @andysficrecs @darklingveracruz

#jack daniels imagine #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal #jack daniels #commissions #ko fi promo

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rikumorimachisgirl · 4 years ago

Note

Iris, I like your Miya Twins hc! Please write more!

Hello, Anon! Thank you so much, I'm happy to hear you enjoyed the HC I made. I hope that you enjoy this one, too. I thought I'd write about how they met/fell in love with you. 💕

Title: Falling in love (with the Miya Twins)

Word count: 1,816

Genre: Fluff

Disclaimer: I don't own Haikyuu!! nor its characters, but the HC below is my idea.

You and Atsumu had been classmates since middle school, and you, fortunately (or unfortunately) always end up sitting next to each other at some point during the school year.

He knew that puberty wasn't kind to you - what with having bad breakouts, and excess pounds. He also knew that you had a thing for him back then - stealing glances when you thought he wasn't aware, sneaking into the gym a few days a week to watch him practice, and bringing extra pens for him because you knew he was bound to forget his own.

Since there were very limited choices of schools in your district, he knew you'd end up studying in Inarizaki, and he was open to the fact that you'd end up being classmates again. BUT - what he didn't know was that you were starting to bloom into a young lady and that you've shed some weight since he last saw you.

While he didn't exactly fall in love with you the moment he laid his eyes on 'High school you', he was enchanted - quite so that he often caught himself stealing glances at you and asking himself, "did she always have rosy cheeks" or "why hadn't I noticed how deep her dimples are", and he'd immediately look elsewhere when he knows you'd notice him watching.

Since you no longer seemed interested in following him around, nor did you seem to find the idea of watching volleyball practices remotely amusing, he thought he ought to let you know that he was even more amazing now than in middle school. He would talk louder when you were around (even if what he says doesn't make sense). "Samu, yer wonderful older brother is here to lend you a hand," he once called out to his younger twin when he knew that you spotted his twin in the hall with an armload of books. "Huh? Our parents have a child other than the two of us," the quieter twin gasped. "Shut yer trap and give me that!"

He started leaving notes in your locker, too. He'd try his hardest to copy Osamu's penmanship and write the lyrics of a song he heard that made him think of you, or a cheesy love quote he found in Kita's Literature textbook, or sometimes, he'd write something random like, 'your pen writes so smoothly', or 'oversized jackets don't look good on you', and 'your notes are the neatest I've ever borrowed'.

He knew you read the notes, but you just didn't give off the reaction he was hoping for… or any reaction for that matter (you were pretty hard to read, and it was driving him crazy. Lol!)

A day before the Volleyball Team left for the Nationals, he left another note on your locker that read, 'I like you and I want to get to know you better, but if you're not interested, it's cool. If only middle school me paid more attention to middle school you, then maybe High School us would've been a thing.'

He thinks about you when he's not busy with practice, and when he gets a wee bit anxious about their upcoming game (because believe me, he does get nervous about it), he thinks about the possibility of you showing up in his games and he gets all fired up.

He saw you cheering with your friends in the bleachers, during the championship match against Itachiyama. He knew he had to work harder because he wanted you to see how cool he was. He played his best - serving, setting, and blocking the ball perfectly every single time. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on their side, and they lost by a few points. No one in the team was more crushed about the outcome than he was, and he stayed in the locker room a little while longer after everyone had left.

"Miya-san!" You were the first person who greeted him as soon as he stepped out of the locker. His eyes widened and he didn't react for a few seconds because he couldn't believe you were standing in front of him. Clearing your throat, you gave him a shy smile and said, "you were amazing! I think you did even better than when we were in middle school."

He continued to stare at you, which made you even more nervous. "A-anyway, I wanted to say I thought you were the best player out there - win or lose. And… and.. If you ever need to borrow my notes, I could pass them on to you when you get back to school." You shifted your weight awkwardly from one foot to another, thinking you must've looked like an idiot in front of him because he was just staring at you like so. "That's all I wanted to say," you said awkwardly, "that, and I know it was you leaving the notes in my locker. I thought you should know that I also like you, and I want to get to know you, Miya-san."

"Atsumu," he finally said, cutting you off, and took a step closer. You felt something warm over your shoulders and suddenly, you were engulfed by his scent radiating from his jacket. "If you want to get to know me, you can start by calling me Atsumu."

"Atsumu," you smiled back, holding his jacket closer to you. "But I thought you said oversized jackets don't suit me."

"Yeah, but mine looks perfect on you," he shrugged before offering his arm out to you. "Well, shall we go get to know each other then? I don't know about you, but I feel so bad I could use some comforting and a nice big serving of Chūtoro." And with that began your love story, and the rest, as they say, was history.

Osamu and you go way back. The Miyas lived next door so you practically grew up with the twins.

Since you were the same age, you used to play with them when you were younger. Of the two boys, you got along with Osamu better and you shared a lot of secrets - including a secret hideout, secret handshake, and secret codes. He knew everything about you, including - much to his dismay - the huge crush you had on his twin.

You love playing board games with Osamu and would happily come to their house so you could beat his ass in a game of Monopoly, Scrabble, Risk, and Clue. You were usually so good at this, except when you spot an Atsumu sighting nearby and lose your composure. Osamu would tease you, of course, but little did you know how much he despised it - especially since his twin also thought you were cute. This carried on until you went to high school.

He completely lost it one weekend. When you and Aran came over to play Guesstures with him, Atsumu decided to join and insisted that the two of you team up. Osamu rolled his eyes, and hoped you'd pick up on his mood, but you were currently on cloud nine.

Thirty minutes, ten cards, and a dozen googly eyes (between you and Atsumu) later, Osamu declared he was done playing and stormed off. Clueless as ever, you looked at Atsumu and Aran to help you understand what was happening, and the two guys just shook their heads in silence.

You were sorely mistaken for thinking that he would be over his upset when Monday rolled in. He avoided you like the plague the moment you both set foot outside the gates of your houses. "Samu," you called and jogged up to him, but he didn't stop or slow down. "I'm in a hurry today, I'm on class duty," he said coolly, without sparing you a glance. And all you could do was watch your gray-haired best friend disappear into the distance.

He didn't bother waiting for you during breaks and lunchtime and talking to him after class was a lost cause due to his volleyball practice. You initially thought giving him space would help, but two weeks had passed, and you were desperately missing his company, so you sought the help of the only other person you could think of at the moment.

After stalking him for most of the day, Aran finally agreed to help. He called Osamu so that the two of you could talk, but your best friend was too stubborn to care. Little did you know that after you left, Atsumu and Aran confronted him for acting like a jerk.

"The hell was that about, Samu?" Atsumu called out, just as his twin was about to walk back to the court. "It's none of yer business, Tsumu," he replied nonchalantly. "Sure it is! You like her, don't you? Why don't you just tell her instead of treating her that way?" The older twin said, forcefully grabbing Osamu's arm. "Because she doesn't like me -," Osamu replied harshly. "Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that," Aran said, as he patted Osamu's shoulder and walked back to the court.

He tossed and turned in bed that evening, thinking of what Aran had said. Grabbing his phone, he went through all your messages from year's back, across all the different messaging channels - he went as far back as the time you confessed you liked Atsumu, and the entire year you only wanted to talk about his popular twin. And then he noticed how you stopped mentioning Atsumu at one point and started asking how his day went or if he's eaten. He saw the food pictures you'd sent from your trips with your family, and how you wished you could eat those with him someday.

And then it hit him - you wanted to be with HIM - not Atsumu."I'm such a fucking jerk!" He groaned.

He was waiting at your gate bright and early the next morning. He hadn't slept much nor thought about what to say to you, all he knew was that he had to see you. As he thought about what to say, he heard your front door open. "Samu-san?" He straightened up at the sound of your voice and saw you looking genuinely confused. "Y/N-chan, I… I…," he started to say as you hurriedly opened the gate to stand in front of him.

"I like you, Y/N-chan, and I was jealous of my idiot brother." Your eyes widened in surprise at his admission. "So, I'm sorry I acted like a jerk, but I hope you could -you know…," he trailed off, blushing furiously. "Did you want me to forgive you or go out with you? Because I could do both," you said, as you grabbed his hand and looked into his dark eyes. "You… you do?" The shocked look on his face made you chuckle, and you tiptoed to plant a kiss on your boyfriend's cheek.

The end.

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years ago

Text

The Arrangement Ch. 19

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: After the photoshoot you and Yoongi decompress

Previous Chapter here AN: SO FLUFFY UGH

You slunk back to the elevator and just stood there for a second. What a weird day. You pulled out your phone to double check your work schedule and saw a message from Yoongi.

YG: I ordered pizza.

You smiled.

YN: Oh yeah? Did you order enough to share?

YG: *Eyeroll*

YN: :D Where is this food? Apartment? Studio?

YG: Apartment. Photoshoots wear me out.

You pushed the button for the 18th floor. Other people got on and off as you made your way there; it was the end of the work day for most of the hourly staff. You finally arrived at your stop and headed left.

You opened the door and took off your shoes, immediately noticing the delicious odor of bread and hot cheese filling the air. You had been running around all day and just now realized, other than a few carrots, you hadn't eaten today.

"Oh my God thank you so much." You declared as you walked into the kitchen. You eyed the box sitting on the counter and looked around for Yoongi. “Helllooooooo?”

“Good. I’m starving.” You saw him rise up like a reanimated corpse from the couch.

“You didn’t have to wait on me.” You reprimanded, even though you thought it was incredibly thoughtful. Yoongi just shrugged and walked into the kitchen.

You opened the box and handed him a plate.

“I have no idea if you ‘ll like this.” He said as he took some pieces.

“I like food. My favorite food is the food in front of me.” You took the plate over to the table, going back for some water.

Yoongi followed suit, quieter than normal.

“You ok?” You asked.

“Yeah, just tired. Photoshoots take so much more energy.” He collapsed down into the chair.

The air was filled for silence for several minutes as the two of you stuffed your faces. Finally, you worked up the nerve to ask, “Sooooooo…...did you know Bongcha was asking you out or are you oblivious?”

Yoongi looked up, shaking the bangs out of his face. “I knew. But what should I say to her? "No I don’t want to go out with you" and ruin her day? Upset her at work? It would make things awkward for both of us. Nah. Just request another stylist for a few months.”

You pursed your lips together in thought. “Why not just date her though? She’s cute. You guys get along. Why go through this whole elaborate contract scenario?” You gestured to yourself.

Yoongi sighed. Ugh he had been dreading you asking him about the contract. Things had been going so normal. He thought, stupidly, maybe he could just never think about it again. Of course with Namjoon and BPD up his ass he knew that was unlikely. He realized he had been quiet for too long. “Look, If I actually dated someone I worked with and then it didn't work out, imagine the fallout. The scandal. The wasted time. Plus then I'd have to go on dates and stuff. I'm busy.”

You rolled your eyes "We went to a diner the other night. And the grocery store."

Yoongi blinked his eyes and stuffed more food in his mouth. “Not dates.”

You scowled. "You spent all Sunday driving a van and putting up with my family'

Yoongi chewed, taking as much time as possible to think of a response. “Yeah but I did that because I wanted to."

You rolled your eyes, “You're a weirdo "

"Says the girl who signed a contract to marry a guy she didn't know. And who doesn’t eat their pizza crust. Are you 5 years old?"

"Crust is gross. Anyways. I'm a very good judge of character, I will have you know." You pouted at having been admonished over your crust preferences.

"That's true. You could tell Namjoon was an asshole within 30 seconds I bet." He jested.

"Haha yeah. I could tell he was rich and full of himself by his demeanor and then when he opened his mouth, he confirmed the asshole part. And, I knew Alice was awesome within like 2 seconds.”

Yoongi pushed his plate over a bit and interlaced his fingers. Resting his chin on them, he asked, “OK. So what was your first impression of me?”

You laughed as you recalled sprinting in your work clothes. “That you were busy. Very busy. And a little bit short on patience, but I thought that's because you were in a hurry.”

“Sounds about right.” He took a sip of his water.

“The second time I met you, you were putting on an act for Namjoon. Still not sure why... " You eyed him suspiciously. “You guys have a fucked up dynamic "

"You are right all-around there. Cheers." He lifted his glass in your direction."You did a great job today."

You scoffed, "I literally just pointed at things and handed you stuff.”

“Hey I've been to shoots before, you haven't. Today went much smoother than usual. “

“Really?” You rocked back in your seat.

“Yep.” He stood up and extended his hand." Do you want more? "

"Yes please. Thanks again for ordering. I didn't realize how hungry I was til I got home.”

“‘Same.” He took the plates to the kitchen and returned with more food. Sitting them down on the table. He pulled his laptop over and looked over some things as you guys sat in silence for a few minutes. You scrolled through your phone, returning some texts from Jimin and your brother.

"Do you want to go watch something?" he asked, taking you by surprise.

You raised your eyebrows, “You're not going to work?"

"I told you, photoshoots wear me out. I'm done for today."

"Yeah sure," you stood up and grabbed the plates. "I'll clean up the leftovers and get changed. Pick whatever."

You travelled up to the loft area about ten minutes later, much more comfortable in your leggings and oversized sweatshirt.

Yoongi was waiting on the couch, the remote in his hand as he scrolled through the menu. You plopped down on the other end, covering your mouth as you yawned.

“Grab a pillow. You know you’re going to fall asleep.” He said without looking over.

“No I won’t,” You protested through another yawn.

He shot you a look that told you he knew you were full of shit and got up. He returned a minute later, throwing a pillow at the back of your head.

“Hey.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat back down, adjusting himself into a comfortable position.

You grumbled a thank you as you balled the pillow into a couch-compatible shape and leaned up against it. You pulled back for a second. It smelled just like Yoongi. This was his pillow. You looked over, his eyes were still scanning the screen.

“Since you’re going to fall asleep in ten minutes I’m putting on my favorite documentary.” He said matter-of factly.

“I will last more than ten minutes.” You declared. You heard a small snort come out of his mouth as he dimmed the lights and pressed play. You started to watch the movie and tried to pay attention, but your heartbeat was racing. You kept replaying earlier conversations in your head and also smelling the pillow. You felt like a pervert. The man across the couch was completely oblivious. You stared at him for a few seconds and realized that yes, you did like him. Well Shit. You didn’t have too much time to ruminate on this as your eyelids began to grow heavy. Soon you were passed out, just as Yoongi predicted.

Ten minutes into the NBA show he looked over, a knowing smile crept onto his face. You were out.

He took a deep breath. What the fuck was he doing? He tried not to think about it too much. Every time he thought about you and the contract it left him feeling weird. The thought that you were getting paid to like him and to hang out with him, didn’t sit well at all. But he knew there was so much more to it than that. He picked up his notepad and wrote a few lyrics, the movie playing for background noise at this point.

After several minutes he looked at his writing. Satisfied, he stood up and slipped the notebook into a desk. He didn’t think you would snoop, but better safe than sorry. He looked back at the couch and smirked. He thought it was hilarious you thought you would stay awake when he knew better. He went over to the stuffed animal line and pulled out a Snorlax. Appropriate, he thought as he sat it down on top of your side. He snapped a picture. Sweet revenge. Stretching, he decided to head to bed himself; only slightly lamenting that he had given you his favorite pillow and now he would have to use the flatter one. NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah @bobbyboops @honeysunandsoil @deathkat657 @min-yus @or-worse-expelled7

#bts fic #BTS suga #bts suga x you #bts suga x reader #bts yoongi x reader #bts yoongi #suga x you #suga x reader #suga x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #bts writing #bts scenarios #bts imagines

87 notes · View notes

ratmonky · 4 years ago

Text

Stairway to Devotion

I’m quite certain that if a character is very like me, I just write them ooc and turn it into vanilla self indulgent fic.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: none

The abandoned warehouse was quiet for the most part. Demons were lurking in the shadows and in the forest, ready to attack unassuming humans and that was why this small town had been declared as dangerous. Humans didn’t come here to avoid being killed. Yet for a stray like Denji, it was welcoming enough to call home.

Denji had been to many places but he liked this warehouse the best. It provided him the security he desperately needed to sleep at night and most importantly, the electricity was still working. He had gathered many simple kitchen gadgets and a small heater thanks to the people who had thrown them away despite them functioning properly. But that was life, he thought. He would be thrown away by Yakuza soon if he didn’t make enough money. No matter the fact if he was giving results or not, just like the electronic junk he kept finding in the dumpsters.

With the little money he had, his dinners consisted of a slice of bread and very rarely the leftovers he found in the trash behind a restaurant if he was lucky enough.

He ate when there was enough and slept when there wasn’t. But even in his desperate state, he made sure to feed his demon dog, Pochita.

Pochita ate almost anything, even go as far as nibbling on Denji’s arms when he was sleeping at times but sometimes even he, a demon, gave his single slice of bread to Denji out of pity.

In the last years, Denji had sold his body parts to the black market. He had thought he had made quite some money out of his kidney and eye that he sold but he had no idea how they paid him only the half amount of money.

And now, he was trying his best to live for another day with Pochita. Chop woods, kill demons and sell more of his body parts to pay his debt to the Yakuza.

His paycheck wasn’t great and that debt collector of his was a douche but he never complained. Even if his paycheck only allowed him to buy bread and nothing else.

Because at the end of the day, when it was nighttime, he always found peace in the small store he bought bread from. Not because the prices were so low that he sometimes managed to buy two loaves of bread or how they let the customers read the magazines before buying and although he never bought the magazines, he liked to entertain himself and sometimes check the newest porn star’s spread open legs so he could go back to the warehouse and wrap his hand around his cock as he closed his eyes to remember what that looked like-

Ahem…

No, Denji liked this store because of the cashier.

Someone so sweet, someone so kind, someone so loving and someone so beautiful-

“Hii, Denji! You’re late today!” you smiled as the boy entered the store. Stopping sweeping the floor for a moment, you crouched down and gently petted the small dog that had run up to you. “Aww, Pochita, I missed you too!”

Pochita happily whimpered and leaned into your touch as his tail kept hitting the floor out of joy.

“Came to buy bread?” you asked, looking up to the young man. He nodded sheepishly and crouched next to you to pet his dog. “Well, it’s good that I was waiting for you two just in case then.”

“Oh, sorry…” Denji lowered his head. “We were too deep in the forest so coming back to the city took a while. Don’t wait for us if ya gotta close the store.”

“It’s alright, I kinda memorized how often you came to buy bread so I guessed you’d be here. And where would you buy bread from if I had closed the store, huh?”

Denji couldn’t answer.

“Exactly!” you giggled, scratching under Pochita’s chin. “Ahh, he’s so friendly today. Didn’t you feed him?”

“I did! He ate my share too! He started running down the damn street when he realized we were gonna buy bread,” Denji said. “He just likes ya better than me.”

“That’s because I always have this in my pocket!!” you giggled as you pulled out a beef jerky from your pocket.

Pochita started wiggling his tail rapidly and barked excitedly. You tore the packaging open and let the demon dog nibble on the snack before standing back up again.

Your eyes met Denji’s while he was pouting. A soft smile spread across your face, “What?”

“I told ya, didn’t I? If ya keep feeding those he’s gonna leave me for ya!” Denji slowly rose up to his feet, completely unfazed by your puppy eyes.

“Admit it, you’re just jealous,” you said, playfully hitting his chest.

Denji blushed slightly, “I ain’t jealous!”

“Yeah, sure!” You walked behind the counter after picking up the small broom. The lights flickered as you crouched to put the broom away and disappeared from his view for a second.

Denji’s eye landed on Pochita who was still munching on the beef jerky and then back to the counter before he went to grab a loaf of bread.

He wondered how much longer you would be waiting for them if Denji hadn’t taken the bus. His paycheck was almost finished. That bus ride hadn’t been cheap and he would have to sleep instead of eating dinner for a couple of nights, Denji wouldn’t hesitate to take the bus here again. It was outrageous for a nobody like him to make you wait. Although he knew you were doing this because you had a soft spot for his dog but Denji couldn’t help himself. He enjoyed having someone greet him with a smile and talk to him as if he was their friend. It all made him feel welcomed.

With you, he felt like this world wasn’t just rotten.

When he put the loaf of bread on the counter, there was a large plastic bag full of food next to it. You were smiling at him with the biggest smile he had ever seen.

He wanted to flash you a smile matching yours but remembering how yellow his teeth were, he resisted the urge. “What are ya smiling at?”

You shrugged. “Is that all?” You put the loaf of bread in a plastic bag.

“Do ya even have to ask?” Denji scoffed, taking out the thin envelope that had the rest of his paycheck money in it. He reluctantly took out a bill and gave it to you.

“You never know!” You gave him his change. “Maybe you’d wanna spice things up and buy hot coffee or something!”

“Heh, if I could I’d buy meat buns and beer.” Denji shook his head. By the time he took his bread, Pochita was done eating. He was about to turn around and leave the store when you called out to him.

Whipping his head around, Denji’s eye landed on your nervously fidgeting figure holding the large plastic bag of food.

“What is it?” he asked.

You took a deep breath and held the plastic bag out for him. “Please accept this.”

He stared at the bag for a moment longer than the normal. “What’s in that?”

“Meat buns, beef jerky, beef, and everything I knew you’d want.”

Denji gently grabbed the bag from your small hands and felt his chest tighten. “I don’t have enough money for all-”

“It’s a present from me!” you said.

“For what?” He couldn’t believe the amount of food a plastic bag could carry. There was enough food to feast on for months if not weeks.

“For being a loyal customer!” you chirped and put your hands on his shoulders to start leading him out of the store. “So don’t you ever stop shopping here! There’ll be a bigger present next time!”

Denji’s lips curled up into a smile. “I may be stupid but I’m not an idiot. We can’t accept this.”

Pochita growled at his owner in irritation.

“Stop that,” Denji told his dog. He then turned to you. “Thank you but ya really should return these.”

You weren’t going to give up that easily.

“I can’t! We have a no return policy, I already paid for them.”

“Haa? Why would ya buy shit for me with yer own money?” Denji didn’t sound upset even one bit. Only surprised. “Ugh, nevermind!” He put the plastic bag down and picked Pochita up. “We’ll be going home, ya should take that to your place if yer unable to return it.”

“Can you at least help me carry it back to my place?”

Denji was going to say no but seeing the way your lower lip quivered, he was unable to.

“Alright but I’m doing it because it’s too heavy!”

~~~

“Please! Next time… rent a place with an elevator or… on the first floor!” Denji wheezed when he finally reached to your apartment.

You giggled and let Pochita down, “You’ll get used to it.”

“What does that supposed to mean?” He caught up to you with his wobbly legs as you opened the door.

“Have you two had dinner yet?” you asked, ignoring his question.

“Ah...” Denji rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and avoided answering your question but his growling stomach gave him away.

With another friendly smile, you opened your door wider, gesturing them to enter. “I should at least thank you two for walking me home, right?”

“We should really head back- ack! Pochita!” Denji shouted after Pochita who ran inside of your apartment. “You bastard,” he mumbled.

“At least one of you are honest.” You took off your shoes and watched Denji huff in defeat before taking his own shoes off.

~~~

You stole a quick glance in his direction and snorted when you saw him still stuffing food in his mouth.

Pochita had already passed out from overeating and you wondered how long would it take until Denji joined him on the couch.

“You’re still going?” you giggled as you placed a can of beer in front of him.

“Of course!” Denji chirped in between bites. “It’s soo tasty!”

You blushed at the compliment, “I’m glad you liked it. I have some leftovers if you’d want them.”

He nodded rapidly and continued wiping his plate clean.

Once he was done eating, he cracked his beer open, holding it towards you. “Thank you for the food!”

You clinked your beer can with his, “My pleasure.” Momentarily you looked at Pochita and snickered. “He’s out cold already.”

“Pathetic, he should’ve eaten until his stomach started bloating. He’s never gonna get this much food again.”

“Dogs have a smaller stomach, Denji,” you giggled. “He probably ate as much as his little body allowed him to.”

“Do you live alone?” he asked suddenly, it was clear that he was only curious but from the moment he stepped into your apartment he had been looking at the framed pictures or any decoration you had in the living room to figure out what kind of a person you were.

“Y-yeah,” you said softly. “What about you? Where do you live?”

“I live in some abandoned warehouse next to the forest with Pochita.”

You would have laughed thinking it was a joke if it wasn’t the pained tone he said it in.

“Thank you,” he said weakly, his voice didn’t come out as confident as he thought, “I’ve never felt this way before.”

Stunned, you looked at him with a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “D-Denji? W-what are you talking about?”

“You’re the only person who makes me feel welcomed in this world.” Denji smiled sadly. “I… I know it’s pathetic but I have feelings for you.” Denji could never willingly let you be involved with him completely. If he did, you would be involved in deep trouble. You didn’t deserve him, you didn’t deserve human trash like him.

Your eyes widened and you stumbled on your words. “Oh… I don’t know what to say-”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Denji sighed. “I wanted to let you know, that’s it.”

“That’s not it!” you protested, your voice trembling. “Don’t think so lowly of your feelings, idiot!v Why do you think I care for you? Why do you think I started working night shifts?”

“(Name)...”

“It’s because I like you!”

It was quiet.

The kind of quiet right before a storm.

Denji’s cheeks flushed bright red and he looked unsure of what to do or say. He was prepared in case you rejected him but you had gone and accepted him right away.

You looked up at him with your cheeks tinted with a faint red, “I like you,” you admitted meekly again.

Another moment of silence passed.

You couldn’t stop blushing. It wasn’t your plan to confess your feelings to Denji tonight but you had done it. There was no going back now. You had to say something else, you had to do something because that damn idiot looked like he stopped functioning.

“Do you want to have sex?” you dared to ask.

He started to tremble, then his eye widened. He stared at you and he looked so utterly confused. “With who?”

You blushed even harder and pointed at him then at yourself.

Denji pointed a finger at himself and then at you before he looked at you for affirmation.

You nodded slowly.

Everything happened within a minute.

You got up from your seat and offered a hand to him. He gently held your hand, intertwining your fingers as he followed you into your bedroom and closed the door.

Both of you were blushing and didn’t know where to start.

He wanted to touch you everywhere, your face, your neck, your breasts, your stomach, your waist, your thighs and your… your-

The image of the pornstar spreading her legs to reveal her pussy flashed before his eyes.

Whether it be the years of sexual frustration suddenly exploding or his crush trembling in lust and need, Denji’s body moved on its own. He could already feel himself lose control.

Denji put a hand on your shoulder awkwardly, his eye locked on yours. You were looking at him with anticipation, waiting for him to make a move… no you were desperate for him to make a move.

Oh, he wanted to do so many things to you but he didn’t know where to start.

He gave you a shaky smirk to cover his own embarrassment. You looked at him as if you knew what he was thinking and beamed at him, making his already hard cock twitch impatiently.

With the way you looked at him, he could see the attraction you felt towards him.

He cupped your cheek in his hand and you leaned into his touch, rubbing your cheek into his palm.

Audibly, Denji gulped. He leaned in to press his lips on yours. You moved your lips softly against his, encouraging him to open his mouth and when he did, you gingerly snaked your tongue into his mouth.

Denji, as someone who had only seen people kissing in pictures, followed your lead.

The kiss was short, tongues timid and teeth clashing. Nonetheless, it left you breathless. But when Denji leaned forward for a second kiss, that changed everything.

This time, he wasn’t shy, his mouth moved hard against yours as he savored your taste. His hands started moving on their own, his fingers went under your shirt and up to feel your clothed breasts. He moaned into the kiss when he finally groped your tits, they were softer than he had imagined, he wanted to touch them without your bra on. He needed to feel them completely.

His clothed erection was poking at your stomach You moved a hand up to his hair and stroked his cock over his pants with your free hand.

A gasp left Denji’s lips, he broke the kiss and stared between your bodies.

You were touching his dick.

You really were touching him.

“Should we go to bed?” Your voice was as soft as your touch.

Numbly, Denji nodded but he couldn’t move a muscle when your finger very slightly brushed against his bulge, he buried his face in the crook of your neck instead.

You huffed as if you were disappointed but then with a giggle, you removed your hand from his cock and dropped onto your knees.

Denji squealed in surprise and covered his mouth in shock. “(Name)... w-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like to you?” You fumbled with his belt and when it came undone, you hastily pulled his pants down along with his boxer briefs, making his cock bounce free.

“It’s weird...” he whispered, about to take a step away.

You licked your hand to coat it generously with your spit, ignoring his cry. You wrapped a hand around his cock and looked up at him after noticing why he had been so insecure. “It’s fine,” you said reassuringly, pumping his cock.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Denji held his voice back. Your fingers stroked his cock gently as you ran your tongue up following a vein before kissing the sensitive pink tip. No matter how good it felt, he couldn’t help but move his hips, begging for you to take him into your mouth.

Denji placed a hand on the back of your head and you smiled, stroking him harder. His legs started to shake. Deciding that you might have been teasing him too much, you kissed the tip of his cock once again but this time you sucked his cock into your mouth.

He groaned loudly against his hand. His cock throbbed, nearly cumming because of your hot mouth closing around it. You put a hand on his thigh and bobbed your head slowly.

“Ahh.” He bit his lip. “Your mouth feels so good.”

You chuckled, the vibrations coming from your throat made him shiver in pleasure, almost making his knees unbuckle.

All of Denji's remaining self-control disappeared at that moment.

His hand that was on the back of your head shoved you onto his cock until he could graze the back of your throat. Your eyes teared up as you resisted the urge to gag, instead, you tried to push him away with your hand on his thigh.

Denji’s hips started moving, he thrust forward and moved you to meet his thrust halfway until your nose brushed on his pubes. He kept you there as long as he could to enjoy the view.

Your cheeks bright red, eyes filled with tears and his cock buried deep in your throat.

He had only imagined what it would look like in his dreams but now that he had seen the real thing, he wanted to see more of you. Like how you would look under him.

Decidedly, Denji pulled you away from him, the strands connecting your lips to his cock broke as you inhaled deeply. You opened your mouth to scold him for carelessly forcing his cock down your throat, he picked you up and threw you onto your bed.

Your body bounced against the mattress and you watched him climb on top of you, just like a predator stalking its prey.

His unkempt hair was sticking to his forehead, his clothes were a mess, his eyepatch had slipped slightly and his breathing was uneven. It made you wet seeing Denji look so… messy.

Though you were about to undress, Denji moved quicker. He hoisted your skirt up and tore your pantyhose to reach your now soaking wet cunt.

Quickly, Denji undressed.

“Can you?” Denji leaned forward, his fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.

Biting your lip, you nodded. You sat up and with one swift move, took off your shirt and moved to remove your skirt along with your now ripped pantyhose with your panties. Finally, you reached back to unclasp your bra. As you slid your bra down your shoulders, Denji’s eye didn’t look away from your tits even for a second.

You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your breasts.

“Don’t hide yourself,” he pleaded. His hands gently unwrapping your arms.

A moan left your lips when he squished your tits together, mesmerized by them. He stopped moving for a second and blushed. He kneaded the soft flesh slowly until he heard you moan again.

“Do you want me to stop?” he took a staggered breath as you laid on your back.

“No,” you stammered. There was no way you could deny how aroused you were. Not when your juices were leaking out from your pussy and soaking your thighs. “P-please be gentle.”

“I don’t think I can.” Denji’s words left you petrified. “I can’t hold back, sorry.”

“Denji,” you softly sighed, nodding sheepishly. “Do as you like.”

Pausing for a second, he looked at you and swiped his thumb across your lower lip, he pressed it on the corner of your lip and gently pulled it down to slightly part your lips. Then he lowered himself over your face, pressing his chest against yours until his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft and warm, only a distraction as he was lining himself up at your entrance. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning softly while he ran his cock between your folds, coating it with your juices.

To let him know that you were at your limit, you spread your legs wider, welcoming him completely.

Denji broked the kiss and abruptly pushed himself in. He froze inside you, his cock twitched in pleasure as the gummy flesh of your walls wrapped around it.

This felt so different. It was nothing like your mouth.

He took a moment to steady himself, he wasn’t sure if he could last longer than a minute.

You let out a whimper, your lips parted and you moved your hips, begging him to move.

“Gimme a second,” he choked out.

You didn’t listen.

Moving your hips, you tried to slam yourself onto his cock.

With a loud growl, Denji grabbed you by your hips and snapped forward, forcing a moan out of you. He had finally pushed himself balls deep into your pussy, filling you up to the brim so perfectly.

Another moan left you as he tentatively pulled back and slammed himself back into your twitching pussy. And again and again-

Each thrust of his hips was deep and penetrating enough to make your toes curl and wrap your arms tighter around his neck. His cock was stretching you so well, you had never felt like this before.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and your fingers twirled around his long straight hair, moaning quietly into his neck each time he hit a sensitive spot. Denji’s thrusts became stronger and more animalistic each time you screamed or whimpered.

Denji’s lips clumsily found yours to muffle some of your noises. He sloppily kissed you, sucking your tongue in his mouth while he humped your cunt like a desperate dog in heat.

He grabbed your hips even tightly, his nails digging into your skin as he mercilessly began pounding in your pussy. Your legs started shaking in pleasure, your hips kept moving to meet his and your walls tightened around him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix, you dragged them down, leaving red streaks on his back.

“Denji,” you whimpered. “I’m close.”

He nodded knowingly, his eye rolling up as your walls tightened around his twitching cock and pushed inside of you for the last time. Your walls pulsated against his dick and sucked him in deep as Denji spilled his seed inside your unprotected fertile pussy with a loud growl. You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist with no intention of letting him go as the warmth of his seed completely filled your belly.

Right after sliding out of you, Denji lazily fell onto the bed next to you, exhausted and breathless.

It took him a few minutes to collect himself and as he was about to open his mouth to say something awkward, you pressed your lips onto his for a short kiss, taking his breath away.

He pulled you into his arms as soon as you finished the kiss. His hand cupped your tit and his nose nuzzled into your hair to inhale your delicious smell. He moved closer to you while you were busy trying to pull the blanket over the two of you.

Once you managed to get under the blanket, Denji gave you a chaste kiss against your hair before you drifted into slumber.

~~~

“I told ya, didn’t I? You made him into a softie! He can’t even cut as sharp as before! His chainsaw broke!”

“It’s your fault for not feeding him well,” you said, hugging Pochita tighter. “Besides everyone needs a little embrace sometimes to work harder.” The dog licked your cheek in response.

Denji wheezed out for air as he reached on top of the stairs, nearly dropping the groceries.

You laughed and put Pochita down, “Geez, you’ve soaked your shirt in sweat!”

“Because it’s too damn hot!” Denji furrowed his brows as he tried to catch his breath.

The weather was too hot compared to any other summer months. Although it was nearing the end of September, the sun was still blazing hot.

Denji faintly remembered how you had told them that here the weather was always warm.

He liked the warm weather, he liked this place too but the damn stairs… they were going to be the death of him. He didn’t even know why he climbed them so hurriedly each time.

Leaning down, you planted a kiss on Denji’s cheek, “You’ll get used to it.”

Dumbfounded, he stared at you and when he saw you smiling at him so brightly he remembered why. “Ya keep saying that!”

#oof this is so embarrassing gaddamn so self indulgent #ugh and i am the first person to post reader insert for denji omg ughhhhh #people are gonna point at me and laugh #ugh i am sorry i just love him so much fuckk #denji x reader

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worldsover · 4 years ago

Text

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

length ✦ 3570

genres ✧ music making; oral fixation; facefuck; subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically. “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-" Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo’s face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Swear to god I’m not just writing the cutest idols to write for. I mean maybe I am but also this answer from @nsfwtwicecatcher and all the subsequent pictures that I found of Chuu pouting inspired me. Also, this was a longer piece but I kept spinning my tires on it and decided to split it up, so look out for more.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fermata, the aforementioned sequel

#kpop smut #loona smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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babblesbabble · 4 years ago

Text

A Matter of Trust

Chapter Three

Rating: Explicit | 18+

Read here on AO3

Jude and Cardan kick things up a notch.

They order a number of things from the room service menu, ordering one item at a time. It is, according to Cardan, the best way to savor it and Jude has nowhere else to be tonight. It was her idea in the first place to order food, but it seems she might not be the only one attempting to use the time to their advantage. For Jude there’s not one good reason to reject luxurious food from an expensive hotel, when it’s all being paid for. For Cardan it is an opportunity to show that he’s not the same person.

They begin with a charcuterie board, fresh fruit and cheeses with nuts and bits of bread and jam. Jude would gladly live off the stuff. Then it’s plump crab cakes and a basket of the truffle fries for each of them. And of course, what’s a healthy dose of wooing without dessert? He picks the warm chocolate chip cookies fresh from the bakery next door. They’re notorious on Instagram— Jude must have seen at least a dozen pictures of the large cookies with oozing chocolate chips before. They were a must have for any guest staying at Insmoor.

There is something intimate about sharing a meal with someone. Eating is not exactly the most flattering thing you can do in front of another person, but pretense is probably behind them after she’s had a mind-numbing orgasm under his direction. Jude doubts, at this point there is little she could do that would be a turn off. No, something has formed between them, tentative as it may be, that is caustic.

Jude plucks one of the last green grapes from the remains of the charcuterie board and pops it into her mouth savoring the fresh taste. They have eaten in relative companionable silence exchanging only the occasional courtesy, but she knows their business is unfinished. She has pushed off the conversation for as long as possible. If she starts now, she will feel more in control of the situation, something she is slowly taking back after opening up.

Jude takes a deep breath mentally preparing for the toll of this and beings, “An agreement, that’s what you want to make right?”

“Yes, that way we can go over what we want. What we’re okay with, or not.” Cardan leans back stretching against the chair Jude had once occupied. She tries not to get distracted thinking about what had happened there not so long ago.

“You can start,” she prompts, pulling her legs up to sit crisscross on the couch she’s been occupying. It’s adjacent to the chair and the leftover pickings of their room service is scattered on the coffee table that’s in front of them.

“For now, maybe we can do this once a week. How does that sound?” He proposes.

It’s not exactly what Jude had expected to begin with but it’s as good a place as any. “That sounds fair. We can always agree to more if we want.”

“Right, exactly. I’d also like to spend time with you outside of scenes.” His eyes try to stay on her, and Jude can tell he is nervous to ask this.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” She asks slightly bewildered, a near laugh tinged to her words.

“I… I guess I am, yes. I’m not saying we have to be anything, but it could make things easier if we got along better outside of scene. From what I’ve seen tonight you weren’t all the way comfortable getting into it.”

He had managed to read her fairly well throughout their play it seems. It surprises Jude a bit, but he has been full of surprises.

“It’s vulnerable,” Jude admits. Her brown eyes moving across the room to look at the surroundings once more, all the same and becoming obviously recognizable to her. At the moment it is easier than looking at him. “I don’t ‘do’ vulnerable very well.”

“I think it’s powerful to be able to give yourself over to another. It’s not something just anyone can do.” Cardan shifts forward and carefully places a hand on hers.

She can feel the warmth seeping from his large hand that fully covers her own. It is a kind touch, an attempt at building connection.

She considers his words, “I can see that perspective, and in a way it is. But opening up is… precarious. You showed me at least today that you’re capable. That doesn’t just mean I trust you without question though.”

“I don’t expect you to, Jude. If you didn’t question me, I think that would concern me more,” Cardan laughs a little.

“I’m a bit of a challenge,” Jude shrugs. She’s practically a maze of intricacies and contradictions but she thinks he deserves to have to earn this from her.

“You're worth it,” He says confidently, but pulls back from being so close.

It’s another push of reassurance to her, he wants this with her and he’s willing to do whatever she puts in the way to make it happen. Isn’t that a twist of fate?

“Oh, I hope so. If you’re taking me out, I want an experience,” Jude sits back against the couch.

“Right, you’re a tough sell,” he sighs, but is ready to go along with it. “I’ll figure something out.”

She gives him a grin, “Glad to hear it. I’m so looking forward to it.”

They spend the rest of the night hashing out what they want from this. They discuss limits and absolute nos. Where they want this to go. It is long and not always fun or comfortable for either of them, but on the other side they’re the better for it. By the end of the night Jude would tentatively call what they have a friendship with many benefits. That, she can live with.

Later that week he took her on a trip to the Museum of Sex. She had asked for an experience and he certainly had given her one. It was on the nose for their situation and at first Jude had not appreciated it. It had felt like a joke at her expense and she had nearly walked away from the whole thing until she realized: it was supposed to be fun. Sex is strange, awkward, mysterious, demanding, and many other describable and indescribable things but it is supposed to be fun. And of all things, it had taken an obscenely large dildo and a pegging joke to make her laugh and loosen up. It made her realize that she could have fun with Cardan. Sex and friendship and them—Jude and Cardan—didn’t have to be so serious. Except for when they wanted to be.

It made things easier the next time they played in scene. They did not push the boundaries much but this time he put his hands on her as he directed her. They grazed at her sides and only brushed beneath her breasts, caressing her neck and pressing against her lips like a gentle kiss. It was sweet, delicious, teasing torture in a very pleasing way. As she had leaned back against him post-orgasm, she could feel his hardness against his thigh. He only sat there and didn’t ask for anything in return.

It had happened again the next time and the time after that as he found new ways to make her cum with his fingers and toys. As he learned the curves of her body. He never seemed to ask for anything in return at this point and Jude, only after they had parted, began to wonder if her not offering had been a disappointment. Did it bother him to give her this new world and to hold himself back? She had seen the want in him, his eyes though dark as the richest black coffee, didn’t lie.

She had to ask before the thoughts consumed her and the only way she could bear to was through text.

Jude: Do you want me to touch you?

Cardan: I’d be more than happy for you to. But, do you want to touch me?

Of course. He was waiting for her to want it, to ask for it. For as much as he was the one in control it was only on her terms as she was beginning to realize more and more.

Jude: I do. We both should be getting something out of this.

Cardan: I have been. Seeing you open up to this had been enough.

Cardan: Since you insist though, I’ll work it into my plans for next time ;)

So far, their games have helped Jude find a bit more of the balance she craves. Work may not always keep her interest and the pressure may feel as if it is closing in some days, but she always has something to look forward to at least. There is always a release around the corner.

This time she is going to his place. They had kicked hotels for the comfort and privacy for their personal domiciles. He has his own townhouse not too far from downtown, and she has her own condo in the financial district. They’ve made a lot of progress so far and Jude is ready to make more, even if her stomach twists thinking about it all. The unknown of each scene they play leaves her in stomach churning anticipation, but the new possibilities are what excites her and pushes her. Each time with Cardan was a slow expansion of what she already knows, and she is thirsty for more.

As she stood on his stoop, she felt ready for this. Jude may be plagued by overthinking and overanalyzing, but she isn’t a coward. She certainly didn’t get as far as she has in life without drive. She pulls from that to confidently bound up the steps and press her red manicured finger to the buzzer to announce her arrival.

All she can hear is the sound of the wind whipping down the block and rustling leaves, until he pulls open the door. He’s already got a smile.

The place is big for one person with large high ceilings and at least three floors. The townhouse was traditional brick on the outside, the interior modern yet tastefully decorated with a dark color palette. There was plenty of space to play around in and Jude didn’t have to worry about trying to be quiet. It also reminded her just how much money he had. Cardan inherited a significant amount of money from his father when he passed and real estate was probably the soundest thing he could have done with it.

She sits herself down at a stool by the kitchen that opens into a living area not too far into the place. “So… what’s the plan for today?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says with that familiar smirk.

“I would,” she plays it cool crossing her arms.

“We’re going to start with some new stuff first, then move to more familiar territory. That sound good?”

“Yes, that sounds like a good plan,” she nods approvingly.

She wants him. It’s something she doesn’t always actively think about because it is always there pulsing under the surface. He has always been frustratingly attractive, a boy with such a poor attitude gifted with such beauty. It has only grown as his temperament and behavior have improved melding into charm. Even as she is with him more and more frequently, his effect on her doesn’t wear off. She doesn’t get used to his freakishly beautiful features. His sharp cheekbones and the defined planes of his body. He is what people imagine when dreaming up heroes.

Her eyes burn across his body. He is dressed simply in jeans and a loose patterned button up she’s sure cost a grand from one luxury store or another. It’s easy to move around in and get off, which is certainly the point for today. She doesn’t really know what he does for work, it has something to do with his family’s company and he didn’t like talking about his family at all. He always seemed to be available and was always dressed more like he’s walked out of a luxury brand’s streetwear runway than from a business meeting.

“You can start by getting down on your knees,” he breaks through her circling thoughts about him.

She stands up and then slowly lowers herself to the ground in front of him. Her eyes stay locked on his own, not moving. Once she is in position she speaks, “How long have you pictured me like this?”

She’s begun to test the bounds of his patience in this. What will he allow her to get away with? Where is the line for him? For herself?

“Long enough,” he looks down at her.

He has a way of looking at someone and seeing right through them.

“Since the first time I bet, I’ve made you wait,” she bites her lip.

“You’ve done as I asked. Which is a miracle.”

“You’ve managed to keep my attention,” she says simply.

“It’s time to keep mine,” his eyes harden. Just as Jude has slipped into her role he is slipping into his. “No more delaying, if you're as brave as you pretend to be, you’ll do it.”

He’s goading her. It lights the fire inside of her, her arousal dawning as she reaches out to pull his dark colored jeans down. He’s not wearing any underwear beneath it so for the first time she’s actually greeted with his cock it’s right in her face. He never was very subtle.

“Someone’s eager,” Judge teases.

“And someone’s a brat.” He lets his hand sink into the curls of her hair, fingers tangling and tugging her forward. They’d discussed it before.

Oh, she likes that. She likes seeing him grab control. She can see just how much he wants her, as she breathes in and forgets to exhale for a moment. Her eyes flit up to his face and then back down. She’ll show him just how good she can be if and when she wants to.

Jude wraps a hand around the base of him, her grip sure. It’s almost a little gross the way her mouth waters and her thighs press together. She opens and takes him in slowly, never once breaking eye contact.

Cardan comes undone, his shoulders fall as if all the tension in his body has gone lax. There’s a vulnerability, an openness to him she hasn’t seen before. He keeps his emotions under the surface and now they have risen to the top. The way he looks at her is reverent. Like she is something worth beholding.

She likes the feeling knowing that this is all her doing. This is her power. Each inch she takes in, each squeeze of her hand reveals his desires. It is when she is as far as she can go, he groans pulling on her hair again. Another pulse of pleasure runs through her center. This shouldn’t give her as much pleasure as it does and yet his pleasure is amplifying her own.

“That’s it,” he encourages, “faster now, be a good girl.”

It echoes in her head a hazy mantra now. She moves faster, one hand gripping the back of his thigh, nails biting into skin. He doesn’t seem to mind the sting, maybe he likes it too. He’s bucking into her mouth now. The tension is high, and she wonders if this is it, if he’s going to-

He’s pulling out now and Jude lets her grip on him go a bit confused by the quick change.

“What-” she stops her voice sounding different to herself, softer.

“Lift up your shirt,” Cardan says as he languidly strokes himself, keeping right on the edge.

It takes a second, but Jude’s hands move to the hem of her shirt and she pulls it up, exposing her stomach and chest.

“Sweet Jude, my resplendent undoing,” he murmurs.

She basks in the sweetness of it—then he’s cumming over her stomach and chest, marking her. She can feel the sticky heat on her bare skin. She should hate it. She should find it degrading and cruel and everything she thought an act like this was, but she doesn’t feel that way at all. Her cheeks are heated, but there’s no embarrassment. Instead, and perhaps this is truly what should shame her, it was gratifying.

“You can put your shirt down now. As much as I admire the view, I’m not finished with you yet,” Cardan’s smirk is back, and Jude’s never seen anything better.

She smiles and lets her shirt drop, “What now?”

“You have some work to do. Come over to the table, it's all set up,” Cardan takes her hand pulling her up to her feet and leading her over. She makes sure not to wobble.

Across the way from the kitchen is a glass dining table. She’s not sure where he’s going with this until she sees at the head of the table are some papers and a pencil.

“Are you testing me?” Jude says almost baffled by what he’s cooked up here.

“You told me once that there was a certain rush that came from getting good grades,” Cardan starts as he makes sure she takes her seat. “Let’s see if it stuck.”

Jude looks down at the papers for the first time. “Are you actually giving me a test right now?”

“Yes,” he says his eyes darkening, “but I think you’ll like your reward much better than a grade.”

He’s going to make her ask, so she does, “And what is the reward?”

“Once you finish, you’re going to lay down on this table and I’m going to eat you out,” he says.

Jude is right back in at that, “Easy.” She shrugs confident she can complete this quickly, it’s only a few pages after all.

“But,” he leans forward close enough that she can feel his breath tickling her ear, “I’m only going to do it for so long. Every answer you get wrong you lose time. I won’t stop though no matter how many times you cum and how much you beg, if you have that long.”

“And if I don’t have long enough?” She can’t take her eyes off him.

“That’s not my problem, is it?” He grins, the master of this wicked delight.

“You are heinous,” Jude snaps hands gripping the edge of the table. She should hate him and in the moment, that’s almost what it feels like, but the anger isn’t true.

“Now, now don’t be so quick to anger. Think of my mouth all over you,” his lips graze her ear as he says it.

Jude’s eyes close as she pictures it, can imagine the feeling of him and the pleasure she’ll get to have. She wants this. He always manages to surprise her with new challenges, and she is game to play them all.

“Let me take the test,” she says eager. “Go stand in the corner or something.”

He laughs at that stepping away and ending his teasing of her, for the moment. He takes position at the opposite side of the table sitting down.

“Whenever you’re ready then,” Cardan says.

Jude picks up the pencil and starts. There are four sections to the test, ten questions for each section and each section a different subject: English, science, history and math. It’s no more difficult than what she learned in school; the problem is that she is out of practice now. Some of it comes easy and other questions she struggles over. All the while she can still feel his cum marking her body, slowly drying and Cardan’s dark eyes watching her from across the table. It’s a heady experience to say the least.

After one last look over, Jude flips the test back to the first page and slides it over to him, “I’m finished.”

He doesn’t say anything just takes the paper and pulls out a red pen to start grading. Jude squirms in her chair, this vision of him and a red pen shouldn’t be as sexy as she finds it. She pushes it aside; she can analyze her peculiar proclivities later.

The silence lingers until he finishes.

“Not bad, but not flawless,” Cardan says. “An eighty. Though I suspect you can do better. I’ll fix that later, homework seems appropriate.”

Each word pushes her deeper into this world they’ve created.

“I’ll do better, I can,” Jude says, she’s looking at him, to him now for more.

“I know,” he takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze. “You did well for your first time. You still get your reward. Clothes off, on the table now.”

Cardan sets the test aside, while Jude slides out of her pants and underwear, pulls off the shirt that’s a bit stuck to her from the cum, before climbing onto the glass table. He takes his position in front of her. He sets a timer and places it down.

“Eight minutes Jude. That’s what you get and not a second more, understand?” Cardan says his thumb stroking her thigh softly.

Jude nods, “Yes, sir.”

Cardan moves in to devour her. It starts with him spreading her with one hand and licking a stripe up her core. That’s enough to make her warm body shiver against the cool glass. He doesn’t stop there, mouth latching onto her clit to tease. Her breathes come quicker, but that’s all the sound she’s making.

He pulls back just enough to talk, but his fingers caress her lips, “This is a reward sweet Jude, don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

Cardan returns to her. Jude’s mouth parts letting out a moan she had been keeping in. The release adds to her mounting pleasure. She wonders how much time has passed, but she can’t focus on that for long as he uses both hands to pull her closer to him, her legs now over his shoulders.

“Holy-” she starts to say before it cuts off with a gasp.

He’s dipped his tongue inside of her now, thumb rubbing her clit in circles. Her hands slip against the glass trying to find purchase before she buries them in Cardan’s thick black locks. He does not stop his work and everything builds. She knows the rules and even as far gone as she is, she’s going to do this right.

“Please,” she says, voice breathy and quieter than she’s used to. “Please can I, sir?”

He’s only off of her for a second to tell her his approval before he’s back at it. He told her not to hold back, so she doesn’t. She pulls his hair and screams as she cums. His fingers and tongue are still working at her all the way through it and after they continue. Her body is more sensitive in the aftermath, making her squirm, but he holds her firm. She doesn’t know how much time has passed but she’s cumming again without even asking. Her toes curl and her eyes are firmly shut, and she doesn’t think she can take another minute more when the timer goes off.

Cardan pulls back from Jude careful to gently set her legs down. The timer stops it’s annoying ringing and she can only assume he turned it off. She lays there in the blissful silence until she’s ready to open her eyes. When they do open, he is right there watching over her.

“You did marvelous, Jude” Cardan says, dark eyes locked on her brown ones.

“Yeah?” she asks, not quite all the way back yet.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Are you comfortable there or do you want to move?”

She holds up a hand, “One minute.”

He waits then giving her time and when she starts to move, he offers his hand to steady her and Jude doesn’t hesitate to take it. He moves her to one of the chairs to sit and suddenly there’s a blanket around her shoulders. She’s about to question where he even pulled it from when she looks at the table. All over the once crystal-clear glass she can see the marks of her hands and body, some clear and some smudged. It’s kind of erotic in a weird artistic way.

“Do you think they’d display this in the sex museum?” Jude questions.

“What the table?” he asks, and she nods in answer. “Maybe, though a canvas would probably be better. I’d love to have a personal piece for my collection.”

He winks and Jude scoffs coming back to earth.

“This,” she gestures to the table, “is your personal piece and I expect it to be gone with some Windex before I leave,” she says.

“Of course,” Cardan sighs wistful. “I could eat with that memory here for the rest of my life, but I suppose it is unfair to force that on guests.”

“Don’t act so deprived, you got the real thing,” she pulls the blanket closer around her, relaxed.

Cardan watches her again. He does that a lot, or maybe Jude has just started to watch him more too.

“I did, and there’s nothing better I can think of,” he grins.

Jude’s heart beats faster in her chest at that dazzling smile— she’s in deep.

#jurdan #jude x cardan #tfota #the cruel prince #my fic #a matter of trust #the folk of the air #please heed the rating

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

Where you should be

Chapter 1: Prevaricate

Genre: Hobi x oc

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 5.6k

Prevaricate (v.) : to speak or act in an evasive way

Present Time

There’s a reason why I’ve been working under a pseudonym for the entirety of my career at Bighit and never show up in photos that are going to be sent out on social media. There’s a reason why the very people I work for have hardly seen me.

After Bang Si-hyuk met me as a junior producer at another agency and saw that I was hardly working enough hours a week to survive, he gave me a one-time opportunity to prove myself. I would work at my agency in the mornings and then head out to the Bighit building in the evenings to meet up with Pdogg and Slow Rabbit who were more than happy to give me a shot behind the producer’s chair.

In the end, Adora was my biggest advocate. I heard her the day I was waiting for the verdict, speaking firmly with Bang PD in his office.

“If you let her go you’ll be screwing yourself over. I’ve seen her work, she’s a machine. I haven’t seen anyone like her. She’d be an asset to this team and we both know that we need that right now.”

It was the beginning of 2018 when Bang PD marched into Pdogg’s studio where I was working with him and told me the plan.

My contract at the other agency still had six years left on it, there was no way out of it. That had been Bang PD’s main concern, but when he looked at his star studded BTS and saw just how badly they needed a fresh perspective, he decided to go all in. So what did he do?

He bought out my old agency.

Naturally.

Source entertainment, the previous house of GFRIEND, still had their logo and a hand in their decisions. However with Bang Si-hyuk their new CEO they really didn’t have much of a say in my promotion.

Two and a half years later, life is pretty good. Well, besides the fact that I’m still living under a rock.

Let me explain: Source entertainment gladly sold their company to Bighit entertainment...under one condition. They didn’t want anyone to know why they were bought out in the first place. Not being able to keep a hold of a young female producer sounded pretty pitiful to them.

It just so happened that my name was starting to circulate around the different agencies around the time Bang PD took me in, and a few were out shopping for a new producer. Once word got out that I was the one behind “Navillera” things started to go downhill.

Sometimes I really feel like I can empathize with Rapunzel, locked up in her tower. At least my tower has a sweet stereo system. Equipped with a pseudonym and surrounded by speculation, I live an interesting life.

You see, nobody actually knows that I bailed Source for Bighit, although many suspect as much. When ‘trackers’ from other agencies began to snoop around for my whereabouts, Bang PD gave me a choice.

Either work so far behind the scenes that I would never see any action but would stay safe from prying eyes, or adopt a pseudonym and be alert for people showing up at my door offering me a higher salary.

There are a lot of things I wish I’d known before I began my career. However, there is one thing in particular I would have liked to known before jumping over to Bighit: cameras have never been able to capture Jung Hoseok in his full glory, and I doubt they ever will.

Mid July, 2018

“Have you eaten?”

Hoseok’s voice is muffled through my headphones, but I quickly slip them off my head and turn to see him standing in the doorway.

“Me?” As soon as I ask the question I know that it isn’t the most intelligent. The room is empty except for me.

Hoseok doesn’t tease me too much, instead stepping into my small studio that I share with a couple of other producers. “Yes, you.” Producing a giant bag of takeout, he lofts it up in the air. “You’ve been here all day and I’m pretty sure you haven’t left this room once.”

I’ve begun seeing Hoseok more frequently around the company building, he’s taken up the habit of stopping into Slow Rabbit’s studio more often during the day. We’ll make some small talk, talk about work and upcoming plans. But this? Just showing up at my small studio with food? That’s definitely never happened before. We’re not even on a first name basis.

I didn’t even know he knew where my studio was. If we’re ever in the same room together it’s either in a big staff meeting with all the producers or in Slow Rabbit’s studio.

Taking a long look between the food and my workload, I sigh and push some of my stuff away, creating a space for the food. Hoseok hollers and grabs a chair for himself, wasting no time in plopping down beside me and pulling out the cartons.

I must be staring at him like he has three heads, because he’s freezing in his tracks when he catches my eye.

“What?” He asks innocently.

I laugh lightly, hoping that he doesn't misinterpret what I say next. “I just wasn't expecting to see you, much less with food.”

“Oh,” he hesitantly passes me a carton. “Yeah, kind of weird, I know. I just thought you might like something to eat. I know how grueling work can be when you’re just starting out, and you’ve got a lot of competition here. No matter how hard it all gets you can’t forget to eat and sleep, alright?”

I nod slowly, watching as he looks utterly unfazed and begins slurping up his food. That’s when I realize that we’ll be eating together.

It’s oddly quiet in the studio that’s usually filled to the brim with music, but it’s nice. “How did you even know that I’d be in here?”

Hoseok shrugs, glancing my way. “Slow Rabbit said that you haven’t showed up for your usual lunch with him all week; I figured today would be the same.”

He talked to Dohyeong about me? Somehow that thought leaves me feeling a little off-balance.

“Thank you.”

Giving me his award winning smile, Hoseok nods. “Hobi. Just call me Hobi.”

Busying myself with my food, I nod. “Thank you, Hobi.”

“You’re welcome...” He looks at me expectantly and I realize that he’s not interested in calling me by my stage name, Sunny.

“Oh. Ha-rin.”

He nods, satisfied for the moment. Diving into his food again, he clears his throat. “Mind if I come back tomorrow?”

January 2019

Lunch with Hobi becomes the new normal. Whenever he has a free spot in his schedule he just shows up at the studio. Sometimes we have lunch around 12, other days it’s more like 8. Either way, he always sends me a text asking me if he can eat lunch in the studio, and chances are I’m still hanging around. He gives me a tentative time, and I always find a way to say yes.

I don’t think I’ve paid for lunch for six months straight. To be honest, it’s really nice. On the other hand, I feel a little guilty. Whenever I bring it up, Hobi just waves me off.

Nearly on the verge of tearing my hair out as I struggle with the title track of TXT’s debut album, Hobi sends me a text telling me that he’s on his way over with the goods. It doesn’t take him long to show up, plopping down beside me and placing the food in front of me before I can even take my headphones off.

“I’ll order next time?” I ask tentatively. We’ve had this conversation several times already, but I can’t quite seem to win.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hobi says as he continues on in his meal. I glare at him.

“Well, I do worry about it. You don’t need to keep doing this, Hobi.”

Now he sets down his food and turns to look at me. He’s wearing a white t-shirt today, and his hair has been recently dyed with honey-brown highlights. When I first saw him in the doorway of the studio with his usual bag of food, I had to remind myself to breathe.

He looks good.

“Yes I do.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I nearly agreed with him before stopping.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, a little annoyed. “I’m not some pity case that you have to foster until I make a name for myself, you know.”

As soon as I say it I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. Hobi blinks before starting to laugh, applauding my bravado.

“Wow!” He says through his laughter. “You think that’s why I’m here?”

I just shrug, too mortified to say anything else. Heaven knows I’m too high-strung at the moment to be trusted to say anything else.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but you’re not a pity case. Do you feel like you’re a pity case?” Hobi turns what should have offended him into a shovel to dig around my brain a bit.

Shaking my head, I sneak a peek over at him. He’s sitting with his legs and arms crossed, looking at me intently.

“...no.”

I don’t sound that convincing, that much is clear on Hoseok’s face. Leaning forward in his chair, he looks like he’s thinking over something important but remains silent for a moment. I take the temporary silence to eat a bit more of my food, only then noticing that it’s ramyeon.

The thought of Hoseok taking some of the packets of ramyeon from the break room and sneaking down here with them makes me want to laugh and cry.

“Pdogg said you’re working on TXT’s title track. It’s your first big project here; how are you feeling?”

The question takes me off guard, and I slurp up the rest of my noodles before I respond. “Alright, I guess. It’s been a while since I had to start on a track from square one.”

A look of understanding dawn on Hoseok’s face. “That’s stressful. But that also says a lot that you’re trusted with so much.”

Shrugging, I drink the last bit of the broth before tossing my cup in the trash. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think Bang PD is trying to kill me.”

“Really?” J-hope frowns before also finishing off his ramyeon. “I could help you, if you want.”

I shake my head firmly, watching as he laughs as though he’d expected as much. “No, I need to do this on my own. I think I’m nearly there, anyways.”

“So that’s why you never leave the studio these days,” he muses.

“Exactly.”

Normally Hoseok is pretty quick in his visits; we eat and he leaves as soon as he’s finished. I’m honestly surprised that he has enough time to eat with me nearly every day. Today though, he lingers. I can tell that he’s chewing on a thought, and I turn to him, raising my eyebrows.

“Are you about to tell me I can get us food next time?”

He blinks at me, laughing. “No, not that. I know you won’t let me help you with producing; that’s fine. But will you at least let me listen to the track when you feel like it’s good enough?”

Hoseok and I are at a strange crossroads in our acquaintanceship. Are we friends yet? From the consistency of his lunches and willingness to help me, I believe we are. But then again, this feels completely unbalanced for a friendship. After all, isn’t he the one putting in all the work?

“That sounds like work, though.” I fold my arms in front of me. “You already work all the time.”

“You won’t even let me listen to it?”

Looking at him, I see how sincere he is in his intentions. Maybe that’s what makes me loosen up a bit, letting go of my insecurities just enough to let him in.

“You promise to tell me if it sucks?”

He giggles, the sound of his little laugh making me smile. “Oh, absolutely.”

Giving him a curt nod, I grab my headphones, ready to get back to work. “Ok.”

He hesitates. “Ok? That’s it?”

My chair swivels to face him, one side of my headphones off my ear so I can hear him. “That’s it. I’m kicking you out now so I can come up with a track decent enough for J-hope to listen to.”

Cackling at my behavior, he holds his hands up in surrender and makes his way out of the studio. “See you tomorrow, Rin-ah.”

I don’t hear him, my headphones firmly planted on my head. Chuckling to himself, Hoseok closes the door on his way out.

Two weeks later

“I think that one’s my favorite,” Hoseok says as he slips the headphones off. I raise my eyebrows.

“Really?”

He nods, smiling softly as he hands the headphones back to me. I put them on, immediately beginning to toggle with the track before me.

“Really. Why, do you not like it?”

I shake my head, eyes glued to the monitor. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...I think that’s the song I hated producing the most. It was by far the most challenging.”

“I can see why. But it sounds like your hard work paid off.”

I forget to breathe for a moment as he reaches out and gently removes the headphones from my head. Placing them on the desk, he crouches beside me and saves the changes I’ve made before closing down the computer.

“What are you doing?” I ask once I’ve remembered how to expand my lungs again. Hoseok straightens up, patting his thighs as though checking he has everything he needs in his pockets.

“That was the final track, right?”

I nod slowly, not catching on. “Yeah, but I’ve still got to review everything and-”

“No.” He looks serious as he shakes his head. “Not tonight. You’ve been locked up in this studio for over a month, I swear.”

Frowning, I turn my swivel chair in a slow circle, glaring at the wall and then Hoseok. “You make it sound like I never leave.”

“Well, do you? I’ve only ever seen you in a studio.”

Scoffing, I stop spinning and face him. “I go home at the end of the day! I shower! Do you really think I don’t shower?!”

Laughing, Hoseok extends a hand out to me which I stare at. My brain is completely fried.

“Sure, ok. You shower. But you leave here late and come back early. You’re finished - you’re practically finished, don’t give me that look - with the album and if you really want to review it, you can tomorrow. But I’ve listened to all the tracks and you deserve a break. Come on.”

He keeps his hand out, waiting for me to take it. Groaning, I grab my phone off the desk and take his hand. Hauling me up and out of the chair, I realize that his hand is larger than I thought it was. And warm.

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out of my studio- it’s only 9 o’clock!” I shout as I see the time. I haven’t been out of the studio before 9 in weeks, usually opting to leave around 1 or 2 in the morning. Hoseok chuckles before me, looking at me over his shoulder until he slows down enough to walk beside me.

“When was the last time you were actually outside for longer than it takes to walk to your car?”

I shrug. “I take the bus. Can’t relate.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.”

Squinting up at him, I curse those honey-brown highlights that are still prominent in his hair. He looks like some sort of model that got lost in the agency building, not my friend that sits with me and offers unsolicited advice.

“I don’t know…” I pout as he opens up the door and we head out into the night air. “A while?”

Laughing, he nods his head. “Yeah, I bet. Here, I’ll give you a ride.”

Stopping in my tracks, I shake my head. “No, that’s fine. I’m ok to take the bus, it stops right in front of my street and everything.”

Hoseok stops with one foot hanging off the curb, ready to head into the parking lot. He tilts his head to the side in that cute habit of his. Struggling to maintain an innocent expression, I watch as he marches back over to me.

“First off, do you consider me a friend?”

I’ve never seen Hoseok’s intense professional side before, but I can see that same tamed fire lurking behind his eyes as he draws nearer.

“I...yes?” I assume that’s the correct answer.

He nods his head before moving on to the next question. “Good. Secondly, I don’t remember saying that I’d give you a ride home. Did I?”

Blinking up at him, I shake my head. “No...but then where are we going?”

In an instant his intense gaze turns into the happy-go lucky expression I’ve come to associate with Hobi. “To celebrate! You just finished producing almost an entire album with only Pdogg for company; that’s a feat in and of itself.” He pauses, looking at me with a soft gaze. “You’re ok with that, right?”

Once I nod Hobi jumps off the curb and leads me to his car. Where I’m expecting a sports car I’m pleased to see a normal, albeit nice, car waiting for us. Opening the door wide for me, he gives me a big smile as I reluctantly get in.

Once he buckles up and starts the car, I turn to look at him. He looks a bit worried behind the driver's seat.

“Are you ok?” I ask. He quickly nods.

“I’m fine...I just don’t tend to drive that often. It’s not my favorite.”

I can’t help but laugh a little at his concerned expression. “Right, I forgot.” He eases out of the parking lot at a slower speed than necessary, but I let it slide. “Why did you drive today?”

He shrugs. “Just felt like it. Are you hungry yet?”

I raise my eyebrows. “I think I could eat again.”

“Great,” Hobi smiles at me before returning his full attention to the road. “I think the boys ordered pizza.”

Heart dropping to my toes, I nearly smack him before I stop myself. “The boys? What are we doing?”

He’s too focused to laugh at my obvious worry, but the ghost of a smile flits across his mouth. “Well, you don’t really seem like the type to hit up clubs and stuff to celebrate, and I figured you’d be tired after everything. So we’re heading to my apartment to eat and maybe watch a movie or something.” He spares me a quick look. “Unless you’d rather go home. Really, I don’t want you to feel pressured. I can just drop you off.”

A part of me wants to shrivel up with embarrassment at the thought of hanging out with the rest of BTS tonight; I’ve only ever seen them at work. Unlike with Hobi who I see nearly every day, I’ve only seen the other boys a handful of times.

I doubt they even know my name.

The small part of me that has kept me up staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment spent with Hoseok; his warm smile and soft eyes, the way he says my name and seems so kind...that part has me smiling at the man in the driver’s seat.

“If you can get us all the way to your apartment without crashing this car, I’m down to watch a movie with you guys.”

His eyes light up with something I can’t quite catch before he’s focusing on the road again.

“Perfect. Here, can you figure out how to call Jungkook on this car phone? Tell him what kind of pizza you want.”

Hobi’s apartment can be summarized in one word: clean. When he mentioned going to his apartment, I thought he meant the apartment he shares with the other six members. Instead, we’re at his own apartment. I didn’t even realize he had one of his own.

I say as much when we pull up.

“I tend to split my time between both apartments,” he says, opening up the front door. “However, the floors are being rebuffed at the shared one. So for tonight we’ll be here.”

The smell of pizza intercepts my thoughts as I kick my shoes off and watch with no small amount of amusement the way Hobi delicately places his shoes on the rack. I make sure to follow suit, grinning as he lets out a sigh of relief when I appear to be tidy.

“Helloooo,” Hobi calls as he leads me into the dining area. Jungkook already has his mouth full of pizza when he spots me.

“Oh- mmf...Sunny!” I smile at the boy I just spoke to on the phone. I guess they remember who I am, after all. “Your pizza is...oh, Jimin’s got it.”

Sure enough, Jimin is opening up a pizza with pineapple, olives, and chicken on it. He raises his eyebrows upon seeing my strange assortment of toppings.

“And this is good?”

I laugh a little at Jimin’s attitude, surprised to see him so at home with me.

Instantly feeling more comfortable around them, I grab one of the plates sitting on the table and make my way over to the pizza. “Of course it’s good. Haven’t you ever tried it before?” Hobi follows suit, looking over the options with a sharp eye.

“Can’t say I have. Mind if I steal a piece?” When I shake my head Jimin reaches over to ease a slice out of the box. “Thanks. Also, congrats on surviving the debut album. Hoseokie hyung said you were crazy busy with it.”

My eyes widen a bit as I look to the man in question. Hoseok gives me a guilty smile before returning his attention to the pizza.

“You talk about me?”

The question leaves my lips before I can stop it, and I once again chalk it up to the lack of sleep, fresh air, nutrients, and peace of mind that I’ve been getting lately. Jungkook immediately starts laughing, nearly choking on his pizza.

Hobi shrugs, giving Jimin a brief look that details his plans for his murder. “I’ve mentioned you a couple of times. It’s been a while since we’ve had a new producer under our roof- much less one that works so hard.”

While the compliment doesn’t fail to make me blush, I also can’t get over the fact that J-hope has told Jimin and Jungkook and probably the rest of the boys about me.

“In his defense,” Yoongi says, striding into the dining room wearing a large hoodie, “we did grill him for questions when he kept skipping out on meals with us.”

“Especially when he was smuggling ramyeon out of the break room,” Jungkook adds.

I’m not sure where to look as Hoseok’s face goes bright red under the chandelier. Either way, I can’t hold in my laughter.

“I was wondering where you got all that ramyeon,” I muse. The other boys chuckle, grabbing the last few things before heading out into the living room. I wait for Hobi who’s currently staring holes into his pizza.

“You coming?”

He jumps a little at the sound of my voice, looking up at me with his mouth in a small frown before smiling. He dips his head to the side in that way he always does.

“Right behind you.”

February 2019

Things slowly begin to change. The debut album is reviewed and accepted, and suddenly I’m no longer eating in my studio with Hobi. Instead, I’m showing up at his apartment after work for dinner.

His schedule has gotten busier since mine has relaxed now that TXT is debuting in less than a month. Unfortunately I can’t just show up on set or in his studio or wherever it is he’s working for the day, so instead I begrudgingly accepted his offer of dining in at his apartment.

He’s never alone, our meals now consist of Jin usually choking on something or Yoongi making sly comments under his breath. Namjoon has only been there once, according to the rest of the boys he’s a workaholic. It doesn’t surprise me at all.

Jimin is a constant at Hobi’s apartment; apparently he’s none too happy about his roommate spending more time at a separate place. Jungkook and Taehyung usually tag along, although Jungkook has a bad habit of wandering about and leaving early.

Dohyeong has come over a couple of times as well, he made sure to make fun of me for no longer stopping in at his studio.

“You’re busy these days,” I say as I try to defend myself. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

Dohyeong shrugs, completely ignoring the dark circles under his eyes. “We’re not too busy. And you could honestly be a big help to us, if you bothered to drop in.”

I’m in the middle of rolling my eyes when Hobi speaks up from where he sits beside me. “Actually, you really should. I was talking to Bang PD about it and-”

“You talked to Bang PD about me?” I shriek, dropping my spoon in my soup and turning my full attention to the man beside me. “Are you trying to get me fired or something? Jeez, Hobi, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hobi looks like he’s not certain if he wants to run off screaming or burst into laughter at my sudden outburst. He holds up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Hey, all I did was mention the fact that you’ve been working very hard and that you show a lot of promise. If we could get you on a project of ours, it might really open up a lot of doors for you. You know, more than the occasional song.”

I stare at him, the table completely silent as I study out his face. He’s casually eating his food, keeping one eye on me as though waiting for me to start beating him up. He straightens up and grabs a bit of the meat from his soup, blowing on it before extending it out to me.

Glancing between him and the meat, I sigh before leaving forward and biting it.

Later that night, as we’re watching “Inception” and everyone is lounging about the living room, I look over to Hobi who sits between Jimin and I. The light of the movie dances across his face, leaving me a bit starstruck as I mull over his words.

I’ve worked on a few small parts of songs with the other producers for BTS before, but I’ve never headed a project for them. Granted, I’ve only been at Bighit for a short amount of time. I was thrilled to know that Bang PD wanted me to be one of TXT’s main producers. It’s a big deal, especially for someone as young as I am.

So why is Hobi trying to get me to jump onto some project for BTS?

He must sense my stare, because he’s crinkling his nose before looking over at me a moment later. I stare at him with wide eyes, caught red-handed.

Apparently the dark room doesn’t show him how red I am, because he simply looks at me and raises his eyebrows, silently asking me what I’m thinking.

Scooting in a little closer until my head is resting against the back of the couch near his shoulder, I whisper my worries to him.

“It was nice of you to mention me to Bang PD, but I don’t feel comfortable just jumping in on a project with you guys. That feels...wrong, somehow.”

He nods slowly, bringing his arm around my shoulders and giving me a comforting squeeze. “Ok...you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I really think you should talk with Pdogg or Dohyeong about it. I just think we could really use your help.”

Once I agree to talk with Pdogg about it, Hobi removes his arm and focuses on the movie again. I close my eyes for a moment, fighting the pounding in my chest as I replay how it felt to be so close to him.

Just jumping in on a project with Hobi doesn’t feel right. I know he’s doing it out of friendship, but I also know myself. The world tends to open doors for people based off of who they know, and I refused to use that to my advantage a long time ago.

Looking around the room at the people I’ve begun to call friends, I wonder if I’ve inadvertently sabotaged myself before I could even begin.

♟

After the movie ends Hobi wastes no time getting up and driving me home like he usually does. It’s quiet inside the car, I lean my head against the window and watch the city lights stream past.

I hear Hobi’s intake of breath before he speaks. “Did you like the movie?”

Glancing over at him, I can’t help but smile. He’s nearly buried in his oversized sweatshirt, his nervous eyes flitting all over the road almost as though waiting for a bear to amble out in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s a good one. I’ve seen it before.”

He frowns. “You didn’t tell me that. We could’ve watched a different one, you know.”

I shake my head, eyes drifting down to where his hands clutch the steering wheel. “No, it never gets old.”

He turns onto my street, starting to let off the gas. “If you say so.” Coming to a stop before my apartment building, he turns to face me. “Hey, about earlier...I know it probably seemed really weird for me to just say that out of the blue, but-”

“Lock the doors.”

“What?”

I lean across him to lock all the doors, grabbing his arm out of fear when I see a burly man edging closer to the car. “Hobi…” I whisper, a sudden shot of fear coursing through my veins.

Hoseok catches sight of the man, who has bent over and is trying to see who’s inside the car. We’re both frozen as he comes ever closer, until he suddenly pounces at the passenger side door, making me scream.

“I see you!” He shouts, his hood dropping from his face. “I see you, you little-”

I don’t get to listen to his colorful language before Hobi throws the car into drive and takes off. I’m still clinging to him, staring out the passenger window. Blood is pounding through my veins, making me see stars even as I gasp for air.

“Do you know him?” Hobi asks, keeping his eyes glued to the road. His voice is exceptionally calm, despite the fact that I know he scares easily.

Finally detaching my hands from his arm, I rub my eyes. “I...I don’t know…?” We pass a speed limit sign, and I jump up in my seat. “Hoseok, slow down!”

He doesn't listen to me, and I swear he almost speeds up. I watch people’s faces as we speed by, a few staring after the nice car with a sneer. If it weren’t for the terror in my system I would have been making fun of Hobi. For a man so terrified of driving, he sure does know how to floor it.

Pressing a few buttons on the steering wheel, the sound of a phone ringing fills the car. A glance at the dashboard shows that Hobi’s calling one of their full-time bodyguards.

My jaw appears to be locked as I can’t even bring myself to open my mouth to ask him what’s happening.

“What’s going on?” The bodyguard, Do-yun, immediately asks. It’s rare for him to receive a call this late at night; it can only mean one thing: trouble.

“Do-yun?” Hoseok’s voice is ice-cold as he begins to deliver instructions. “I’m going to send you an address, I need you to stop by my apartment to retrieve a key and then bring some of Sunny’s items over.”

I perk up a little when he calls me Sunny. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him refer to me by my pseudonym. The bright name coming from his lips somehow makes me feel cold.

“Yes, sir. Are you alright?”

I don’t miss Hobi’s gaze as he glances over at me with fire in his eyes. “We’re fine. See you soon.”

When we pull up outside of Hobi’s apartment again, I stare up at his darkened windows with wide eyes. He must sense my confusion, because he waits before getting out of the car. Gingerly unbuckling my seatbelt, his icy exterior melts enough for me to see to Hobi that I’ve grown close to over the past six months.

“Rin-ah,” he starts, and I instantly relax upon hearing my name from him. “Did you recognize that man?”

I immediately begin to shake my head. “I told you, I don’t...I don’t know.”

“Have you seen him before? Even just hanging around your apartment, down in the street or something.”

Looking into Hoseok’s eyes, I can see the unending depths of his patience. But there’s something more there, now. Something I’ve never seen before.

A sharp blade hides behind his eyes, one that I’ve never seen him wield. Watching how his hands curl up into fists against his jeans, I realize that I’m not sure I want to see that weapon at work.

Perhaps I’m at my limit, the memory of that man hurling himself at the car and attempting to claw his way inside too much for me to handle. Whatever it is, something pushes me to do something I immediately wish I didn’t.

Looking straight into Hoseok’s eyes, I lie.

Chapter 2

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